


they make my heart a cinemascope screen

by staccatoswings



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Fluff, Future Fic, Give me more of all the siblings interacting 2kforever, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Polyamory, Post-Season/Series 03, Pre-Relationship, but i figured i should warn people about it anywayyyyyyyy, it's not super super descriptive, slight angst, there is a bit of a dark moment in the middle-ish??, w/violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:54:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26501728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staccatoswings/pseuds/staccatoswings
Summary: It's like watching a horror movie unfold in slow motion.(or: that time that nancy had e n o u g h . )
Relationships: Jonathan Byers/Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler, Mike Wheeler & Nancy Wheeler
Comments: 12
Kudos: 63





	1. maybe i could teach them somethin'

**Author's Note:**

> hi! fun fact but i had a million ideas for the name of this fic lol, because i listen to waaaaaay too much music and listened to a bunch of random shit to write this fic c: so most of the time my titles will always be a song lyric?? and im ngl i almost considered a lyric from simmer?? (the hayley williams song) and im just
> 
> awful at picking anything, so im surprised i even stuck with the title i did for this one lmao, thank you Miss Apple!! OH and thank you @ my wonderful bubblepunk friend for helpin me beta through this you know who you are!! 
> 
> oh also as a random side note, but 1.) this fic takes place like, 2-3 years down the line?? (somewhere around like 1988-89, and 2.) i had a headcannon for this piece specifically that um, el/jane does have her powers back, but she gets awful headaches sometimes after using them? and they can linger for days?? varying levels of severity ('cause i figure even in the show, it's a 'when' and not an 'if'?? she gets them.) one of a million concepts/theories i have for how she gets her powers back, another involves kali but that's for like, another story in the future maybe c:

Word spreads like wildfire down in Hawkins. Not one person wants to leave their house or their back turned for long; everyone's too on edge. Didn't make anyone feel up for being productive. Fact it wasn't uncommon to walk down the streets anymore and see people with sluggish gaits and heavy bags under their eyes, all of them too aware that their small town's been built from the ground up to be the perfect playground for hell. 

  
So Nancy just figures this was how she'd end up spending her Saturday night. 

Laying on cold, muddy grass, with chattering teeth and a crick in her neck. 

Could've been worse, but she doesn't discount Dustin's claim that there was _something_ hanging around the forest, and that it wasn't a deer this time, or a pissed off mother bear. Lucas and Max even backed him up saying that they " _Swear_ it was fucking ten degrees cooler by the levee."

  
_Why **Hawkins?**_ Nancy wants to shout, nose pointed to the sky, _Couldn't you have picked somewhere else? Maybe somewhere more interesting-- maybe more suited for your stupid mind games._

  
Though, truth be told it hadn't been _all_ that bad. Hasn't been a whisper or a murmur of anything _remotely_ inhuman for weeks (until now). Not even a cow being tipped by some punk kids on the far side of town, and that's usually the only bit of consistency they ever get. So really Nancy's comforted by the familiar smell of pine needles and wildflowers as she sits nestled at the base of an old oak.

  
Hopper and Joyce's cars both sit on the side of the road, with everyone else and their mothers packed into them like sardines. It was the typical arrangement, and the younger teens were just glad that they all didn't have to share the one truck, so there was little to no squabbles. (Which was really a blessing, considering there was no Robin to corral them with the candy at the bottom of her backpack either, who was still recovering from the wisdom teeth she had taken out a week ago.) 

  
So that left the older teens to make the rounds and circle the woodsy area not too far away. 

  
It was the usual song and dance. Check for footprints, measure sound frequencies. Max even helped Dustin and Lucas recalibrate this old heat sensor from Mr. Clarke's room _("He was gonna toss it anyway!" Dustin defended, ever resourceful_ ), which they had set up so if Nancy and the boys come across anything, they'll know.

  
Yeah was it buggy the last couple times they tried it? Sure, but there wasn't any harm in trying _again._

_\---_

  
Somehow Nancy always found herself roped into this shit. Even when there's zero hesitation and nothing in her that wants to say no. Not a test to study for, not a trip to the movie theater, just the oddly satisfying weight of the world and it's potential. That feeling of purpose she gets when someone pats her shoulder and hands her a weapon, places their trust in her and knows that she'll come out of it alright, completely capable of the task at hand. 

  
She lets that faith fuel her resolve in the face of danger, even when her heart pounds in fear.

  
It gives her a moment to drift, concentrate on something that wasn't just her pent up nerves. (Not that the grip on her gun lets up, but it's the thought.) 

  
Was sure by now that she should be used to the rise in her shoulders, the tension she feels at every minute snap of a tree branch, or the hiss of cats fighting in the night. 

  
Things she used to not think twice about. 

  
_Well, look at me now,_ she scoffs, thumbs at the chilly necklace that dips into her shirt, thankful for the relief it gives her and that the cold bite of it is grounding.

  
Kept her focused on what was important.

  
Despite that, her memories of getting the necklace flood her synapses, remembering sharply how hot it was that day. Sweltering while the weather in the dark forest now was anything but.

  
\--

  
_(It was Jonathan's anniversary gift from months ago; a gold locket with a long chain and a note. She remembers how he scrambled at first, saying he can take it back to the jewelers later to have the chain reduced if it doesn't fit, watched him fret over the small stuff when all she managed was to barely hold back tears and kiss his cheek, pour out every ounce of affection she could with one hand splayed over his heart._

  
_"Thank you," His hand goes to cover hers, and she soaks in that, in the rhythm residing in his chest._

  
_But when she pulls her hand back she's maneuvered something into his and grins, eyes soft and enigmatic._

  
_Meanwhile his sets into confusion for all of five seconds before he's amazed, mouth hung open as he reads what's on the flimsy scrap of paper in his hands._

  
_"Talking Heads? Really?!" and all Nancy does at that is rock back and forth on her heels, offers a shrug and a wink before she's lifted in the air and spun around. Sure the winds effectively knocked out of her but she laughs, flushes bright red and hugs him tight until she's gently brought back down to Earth._

  
_"Nance, just, **how,** the only tickets they had left were the ones the radio station gave for the phone ins--"_

  
_She holds up her own stub with two fingers, "Think i'd let you go alone?"_

  
_His heart thumps hard against his ribs at that. He's always amazed by the sheer intensity of it, everytime, but he's not surprised, not anymore._

  
_"You're amazing, you know that?"_

  
_"Maybe a bit," and with that he rolls his eyes and brings her back in for a hug, so close that her nose is pressed firmly into the crook of his neck, but she doesn't mind, not at all.)_

  
\--

  
_She hadn't taken it off since._

  
Warm and somewhat lethargic she turns her head back towards the truck to check on the gang, and hears the light, white-noise chatter among the teens.

  
She's not too worried, they've got eachother. Come hell or high water, they've _all_ got eachother. And that hits heavy, when she lets it soak in.

  
Nancy wouldn't allow the enemy to get close if she could help it. 

  
Feeling secure, she veers back to, well, the guys. Even in the dark Jonathan seems more tense than she is, but she doesn't blame him, not given the current scenery, while Steve brandishes his knife on top of his usual weapon of choice. It's the same one that Hopper gave him weeks back after arguing that the bat was only so discreet. Steve was admittedly touched, so he took that to heart and kept it on his person whenever they went out like this. She watches them take turns looking to and fro, with the shorter of the two waving his flashlight in different directions, but they continue to walk, side by side, elbow to elbow, like they're joined at the hip.

  
She vaguely hears Steve make some comment about some plan to _avoid being ambushed_ and to _keep their guard,_ and Jonathan remarks that Steve shouldn't worry, and that he wouldn't let the monsters fuck him up (too bad). Steve chuckles, thanking Jonathan for defending his honor, and for promising to save his money maker if it came down to it.

  
Nancy was just thankful that they got on so well most days, with all the bumpy roads. Too many rough patches that she'd rather not think about.

  
Though once, among the gloom, that very thought's challenged when she sees Jonathan visibly jump and let out a string of expletives, and she raises the gun ready to shoot out of habit. Meanwhile Steve's already two steps ahead and swings his bat at the nearest tree, like it's come to life, and it sticks in the bark. It looks like it takes an extreme amount of effort to pull it back out, which doesn't surprise Nancy, considering the impact-- but Steve's determined, always determined, and he heaves, yanking the bat free, the sap stuck to the nails as it stretches out. 

  
(The unladylike snort that comes out was one she will swear on her grave _wasn't_ her, and besides why would she throw them in jeopardy like that? Had to be quiet after all.)

  
It seems natural, the way Jonathan and Steve exist in the same space. The way they just, laugh off the encounter like it's _nothing,_ make jokes, and allow the fear to shift into comfort so ** _immediately,_ **that has warmth suffusing in her chest. Makes something slot into place in Nancy's soul, something concrete and solid. 

  
Immovable.

  
Swears silently that, _whatever_ that emotion is, she'll protect that as well. 

  
\---

  
One minute Nancy's keeping guard while Hopper checks on Jane, and the next she's blindsided by the sound of shattering bark, the air now filled with a mix of eerie screeches and Jonathan's gut-wrenching scream, all of which has Nancy right on high alert again. Didn't help much that a familiar, sickly grey monster has reared it's ugly head; the demogorgon.

  
She watches Steve toss aside his knife, take the nail bat and swing down, trying to cave in the demogorgon's skull while it's crouched and zeroed-in on Jonathan, and it does seem to do the job and disorientate it. 

  
If for a moment. 

  
Though it howls and sways, it still manages to sink down and dig it's claws into Jonathan, right into his upper thigh and secures itself, roars in his face, blood-red maw and pearly whites on full display. Now seeing red herself Nancy raises her weapon and attempts to shoot rounds into the creature, trying to keep her hands steady and not let the rage overwhelm her so she hits the right target, and she does, landing a blow in the upper hip and a shot in the shoulder, working to dislodge it's grip on Jonathan. 

  
Steve's allowed a good couple swings on top of that before the creature grows tired of the game and latches it's fangs around Steve's hand, the other hand instantly releasing from the weapon in reflex and the scream that echoes in the space between them has Nancy's stomach **_lurching._**

  
It's like watching a horror movie unfold in slow motion. 

  
_Don't worry Nance, we got it,_ Steve claimed, before all this, all reassuring and confident with an easy smile on his face. 

  
_Now look at them._

  
Nancy's shocked frozen where she stands.

She couldn't believe the constant strokes of bad luck that follow them like clockwork. 

  
Couldn't believe she looked away for even a minute. 

  
Couldn't... ** _believe_ **the sheer bravery of the demogorgon to encroach on their territory.

  
Does it think it can just take someone else in it's jowls? 

  
Someone like Bob? Someone like Barb?

  
_Not likely,_ Nancy snarls, simmers, unthaws and lifts her shotgun again to land a sharp bang into the horror's left arm, above the wrist, attempting to force and unlatch it from Jonathan's thigh. The plan goes accordingly, but it's a temporary save as it's got it's teeth sunk into Steve still and _that's_ got her blood boiling further, leaving her with the only option but to shoot at the bulb, before it's got a chance to shake it's head around and take something with it. 

  
Another few blows to the neck and it falls, all balled up into itself and clutching to it's chest with sinister growls continuing to spill from it's mouth.

  
"Go, go," a gruff voice orders, as the chief arrives and yanks the guys up and hauls them towards the car, looks back at Nancy. Waits until she nods before he carries them the short way up the hill and yanks open the car door to guide them into the back seats, while Joyce's cry for her son has bile building up in Nancy's throat, burrowed with the anger below. 

  
And with renewed fire in her belly Nancy makes a decision, takes a few more deliberate shots and the beast does seem to finally slump. (It does try to bite but it's too disorientated to manage much.) And with that Nancy settles into the ground beside it, knees submerged in mud and pulls out her backpack, grabs some nylon rope and attempts a decent knot around it's bloody claws, once she's got it laying on it's stomach. (On later reflection she regrets not putting on gloves first.)

  
It may not have been her first time facing off against one of these eldritch horrors, but it's the first time she's face to face with one of _these._

  
If she were in a different frame of mind she'd muse about how oddly familiar this felt. Like she was right back in Biology class and she was being taught about stems and the biological makeup of flora all over again. Reminds her specifically of sophomore year, when she was learning about the most awful smelling plant known to man; the rafflesia arnoldii. It's got the same flowery bud, same stench of death, same perchance for darkness. Not as deadly as a venus fly trap, no, but that made it scarier. 

  
Not knowing what was beyond face value. 

  
Figures that this is probably the closest she'll ever get to one. 

  
Hands start to tear through petals and inky flesh with reckless abandon, pushing past the initial ick--ichor?-- and lets the animal of her body dig and rip. Feels it a justified trade-off for the hurt it's caused-- no, _causing_ her. Threatening her way of life, thriving on her pain. This, absolute tyrant, didn't it already have it's fill? It's friend's had staked claim on Barbara and yet they didn't have the least bit of courtesy to leave something tangible behind. If it thought she'd leave well enough alone now? Well, then it was _sorely_ mistaken.

  
_So she would just have to reward it the same kindness._

  
_"Piece of shit,"_ She hisses, some of it's piercing teeth managing to cut her arm but it doesn't deter her, nor the smell of decay, still a woman on a mission. If she wasn't so worried about Steve and Jonathan and worried about just what a demogorgon is made of, she'd drive her very own canines into it's body, show it who's boss, but her nails would have to be a fitting substitute. 

  
And she might have continued like that, if her brother didn't show up.

  
"Nancy," Mike calls, hesitant, nervous, "Nancy i think it's got the message, we gotta go."

  
"No. . . no! Mike I don't care about this, _thing_ and it's ** _convenience._** "

  
"Nancy,"

  
"M'not letting it off the hook."

  
_"What?"_

  
Sounds not unlike fabric being torn slice the air as blind fury soaks Nancy's vision. 

  
"Nancy they'll handle it, come on," he tries to tug on her shoulders, could have probably pulled her back, but it's hard not to relate. Not if that was Jane. Not if the Mind Flayer's jowls were sinking into _her,_ like that day at the mall. ~~ _Maybe Nancy had the right idea._~~

  
Wheelers never seemed to relent on s h i t . 

  
_Had to give credit where it's due though the beast doesn't stop it's ear-splitting cries even in the given situation, going out kicking and screaming as it clutches it's fist against un-yielding rope to no avail, marking and scraping it's long nails into the dirt._

  
"Nancy, Nancy! It's, it's not worth your time." Mike breathes, with a sneer thrown the creatures way, like it was nothing more than another schoolyard bully.

_Only worth the scum under his shoe._

  
When Nancy stops, she lets herself heave, lets her shoulders slump, and the look that she hits Mike with is so... _exhausted,_ and yet, just as full of fire as it was not a second ago. 

  
Though it does make her realize just how frigid it is outside, once the initial anger wears off, once the steam dissipates and her vision clears.

  
"I, i don't know what that was," she holds her coat tighter to her frame, shivers, isn't quite sure if it's from the cold or from the sudden lack of adrenaline.

  
"Didn't mean to go off the rails like that," tears start to gather and well in her eyes, but they don't fall.

  
What she doesn't say, is that she was aiming to _disarm_ it... and she almost went too far. 

  
"W-Waste time."

  
"I get it, okay? I get it. Really."

  
_They stay like that, in the same spot for what seemed like an hour._

  
It doesn't last forever when the crinkle sound from his two-way radio startles both the Wheelers from their daze, 

  
"We gotta go. Dustin won't quit shouting in my ear," 

  
"Yeah, okay." she pockets something into her coat and easily relents now, has to force herself to unclench around a piece she tore off from the beast, and lets it fall to the ground, wipes her hands on her jacket, realizes it's ruined without having to look down.

  
_More important things to worry about anyway._

  
\---

  
Not giving too much thought to the static way she carries herself up the hill, the energy is easily renewed when she sees Jonathan and Steve right there in the back of Hopper's Blazer. So she makes her way over, jumps in the back, barrels on in and all but crashes into Jonathan's side, not leaving him any breathing room between her and Steve when she latches her belt.

  
"Hey," she tries to smile, runs her hand over Jonathan's arm and seeks to be a calming presence so she doesn't end up winding herself up. 

  
"Hey," Jonathan echoes, his relief palpable when he melts into his seat.

  
"Hey Nance," Oh, not the only one then. Her mind's racing so it's hard to focus on one thing right now, but she's _very_ glad they're both okay.

  
God, even looking down at Jonathan's leg feels like a huge feat, as she allows her eyes to drift and take a look at his wounds, hopes her loud gulp isn't noticeable. (There went her ease.) And if _that_ wasn't enough, Steve's hand went through the demogorgon equivalent of a shredder. Knows there would be no hand _to_ account for if her reflexes weren't fast enough, and wow, just the image of that _alone_ makes her bite down on her cheek-- 

  
It's moments like these that makes her _extremely_ glad she's not squeamish.

  
"I'm, sorry, for back there," she starts, lets her hand drop so it can clutch the edge of her sweater, clenched tight so she can try to hold back the onslaught of emotions that hits her at seeing them so faint, and muted. Over something she felt was so ** _preventable_** on her end--

  
"No, why," Jonathan sighs, "Nancy, there's, there's nothing you gotta be sorry about," he slumps over in his seat, laying his head on her shoulder, "Really." 

  
"Sure, but," her fingers go to card between sweaty bangs, mindful of the bump she feels by his temple, figures it was probably from being yanked down by the demogorgon.

  
_Another reason she felt she should run back out and finish the job, really give the creature a piece of her mind._

  
"I should have been quicker. You both were right there, right out in the open."

  
She clears her throat, winces at the crack in her voice she can't smother, 

  
"Could have ended up demogorgon chow for all we know and you both wouldn't _be_ here--"

  
"Well we are, Nance," they both startle, looking over at Steve.

  
"Right here. Right in the flesh," he tries to flash her one of his trademark smiles but it morphs into more of a grimace halfway, as he sucks through his teeth, his breath coming out uneven, "So don't worry about it, okay?"

  
Jonathan nods, snaking a hand around to hold the one she's got stuck in the hem of her shirt,

  
"Yeah, we knew the risks." then he's quiet, running his thumb over the slight bump of her scar.

  
In fact they are all super hush in the over-stacked car. Even Hopper, who usually might have a word or two after an encounter like this.

  
But Jonathan does speak up again, once he's got himself collected. 

  
"Hey, Nancy?"

  
"Hmm?"

  
"We," he looks back at Steve, then back at her, "We both got you, you know that right?" Steve nods, agreeing with his hand clasped around Jonathan's shoulder.

  
"Yeah. We didn't wanna see you get filleted either. So just..." Steve reaches forwards and places his bandaged hand overtop theirs, "You gotta be careful to, alright? You're not allowed to keep going all Wonder Woman on us, hot as it is--"

  
"And have it ruin _your_ perfect face?" Nancy grins, all tease, all teeth, which would have Jonathan in hysterics by now if every move wasn't punctuated by the pain in his leg, so he just grins to, knocking his elbow into Steve's,

  
_"Not likely."_


	2. maybe they could teach me to

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> helllooooo! after a millennia, and with a TON of help from my lovely beta, (who i thank IMMENSELY FOREVER AND EVER FOR DEALIN WITH MY FRUSTRATIONS AND WORRIES) that i finally finished editing this chunk of the fic!~
> 
> now, if you're looking at this fic like 'wait didnt they say it would only be two parts?' i did! but then i was like 'wait maybe if i split this up then i wont be so overwhelmed' ... and also i wanted to use lyrics for the chapter names, and i wanted to use 4 lyrics so LMAO (i also figured not a lot of people want a 15-16k update LOL) bUT ANYWAYS thank you for your patience anyone reading this, and i super hope you enjoy this!
> 
> I ended up playing around a LOT with a couple other point of views, even if this fic is more nancy centric in chunks~

It's pitch black on the roads and fog lays heavy in the air, so it's nothing short of a miracle that Joyce and Hopper manage not to hit anything.

But, with eagle eyes intact and an impressive swerve around a squirrel in the dark by Joyce-- they make it to the hospital. And no one wastes any time barreling out of the cars and running towards the entrance, leaving everyone in hysterics while Hopper helps Joyce and Nancy carry the guys in as carefully as possible.

It all ends in a mad rush, with Mike pushing open the doors and propping it so they can all get through. 

And, thankfully the lobby doesn't appear to be too busy, so they could afford to be as loud as they want, even if they still get a few side eyes regardless.

Mike couldn't help but think though that as far as days went? It wasn't anything all that _new_ at least. It was the same old gang, and the same old mixed-up bag of chaos.

It definitely took a turn for the weirder for the younger Wheeler when on the way in, Steve mumbles out a tired "Thanks," as he passes him and limply shakes his hair on the way in. Like he used to do with Dustin. _Still_ does with Dustin, since he's still short enough for Steve to manage it. Even when Dustin argues that he's too old for that shit. (Now it rotates between the teens, now that Steve's less terrified that Mike might bite his fingers off.)

Mike thought about shoving him back to regain some of his dignity. Maybe throw in some snarky comment for good measure-- but he minds Steve's hands. Gets a good look at him and turns green at the color that manages to seep out of his shoddy bandages. 

_(His mind flashes back like he's still in the car. Before the ambush, where he waited and held his breath for someone to say the coast was clear. Where he sat sandwiched between Jane and Dustin, and felt the way they jumped at any sign of movement or bounced their legs with nerves. Could still hear Dustin and Lucas' combined freakout of, "Holy shit, holy shit not **this** again." _

_Meanwhile Max wanted to yank open the car door and figure out what was going on for herself. (Thought it was an awful idea to leave the three of them out there without backup in the first place.)_

_Mike remembers Jane's face being just as determined, but whatever head injury she'd sustained prior to this had her slumped against the seats again, so it puts a halt on their plan, and Max lets the latch of her door go in favor of checking on her._

_He's still very aware of how his ears ring even now when he recalls inhuman screeches and head-splitting screams. Remembers the fear filling in his lungs and the way his blood runs cold. Frustrated on top of it all that he can't_ **see** _anything. That no amount of squinting helps his eyesight. It's days like these that make Mike wish he_ **did** _have Darkvision, like in his games. So he could see 60 feet in front of him and it wouldn't be an issue._

_And really, the only breadcrumb he's given is a flash of light that hits a sickly grey figure he's all too familiar with. Sees it bend its body and then-- everything goes dark._

He's so caught up in it that it takes Mike a second to catch himself clenching his own hand into a fist, and releases it. Feels the circulation slowly return to his hands, flexes his fingers and finds himself grateful that he's still got them all in working condition.

Couldn't imagine what the demogorgon did to Steve. Or what toxins could possibly be thrumming inside a demon.

(He'd have to touch up on his books again.)

But, to keep up some front and hold onto some ounce of normalcy Mike just rolls his eyes, mutters something under his breath, and shuts the double doors. 

\---

When they all make their way in, they make sure they've got their stories straight and rush to the receptionist to bring her up to speed-- _in the usual half-truths way they've all seemed to grow accustomed to._ They worry for all of two seconds when the woman starts to look like she's gone far too white, looking up at both injured parties. But she does manage to jot down all the needed info, and plop the clipboards down onto the desk for them to fill out the rest. Informs them that Jonathan needs _immediate_ medical attention, as Will goes to grab him a wheelchair. Jane can't get her hands to stop shaking, so she's quick to aid Will in his efforts and helps Jonathan into his seat, making sure they don't agitate his wounds further. 

Once they've got him safe and nestled into his seat, they guide him down the hall towards Room O32 with half the group hot on his tail. 

( The other half tries to pull the 'extended family' card, but it's useless. They know the rules, even if they fight it every time. Including Jane, who looks like she could fight ten men just to be in there with them. But she's so fatigued that she takes a seat with the gang left behind instead, promising she'll sneak in later. )

\---

Nancy's able to make a convincing enough case that she should be up there with the Byers, and the doctor doesn't seem to make an argument strong enough to match her fire. 

But after that, all three of them are left on watch duty. Stuck feeling helpless and unsure as to whether or not they should be doing more, as they watch the doctors hook Jonathan up to the machines. Checking his vitals, making sure everything's taken care of.

None of which stops one Joyce Byers from meddling and fixing the sheets after they leave.

"Didn't look right anyway," she smiles, quick to quip, "Doesn't have a mother's touch."

And, loving mother as she is-- Joyce starts to tuck him in and fix the blankets, like he was a toddler, and tucks the layers in under him. And, almost done with all the clucking and tending to, she reaches out to place her hand over his forehead and gauges him for any fevers, finishing the ritual. 

All of this paints a clear picture to anyone privy that this wasn't her first rodeo, and it wouldn't be her last. She's got experience with this sort of thing, as scary as a notion as it is to her when she thinks too hard about it.

"Temperature checks out," Joyce sighs, relieved. 

Jonathan coughs and sits up, takes in his surroundings with a hand held protective over his wounds.

"Well, sweetie if you need anything, the remotes are right here, okay?" Joyce adds, a wobbly smile adorning her face.

He nods, as he lifts up more to meet her halfway for a hug, "Thanks mom." 

Jonathan figures he might need the remotes, since he feels the odds of him falling asleep are slim to none right now, so it's nice to know the T.V. is an option. 

"Hey," Will walks over to Jonathan with blatant concern written on his face. "If there's anything you need, you let me know okay?"

Jonathan nods and tries to talk around the sudden lump in his throat, 'Will I'm fine," he shifts in his bed, firmly gripping Will's shoulder, "Really."

"Oh come on man, there's gotta be _something."_

Jonathan thinks about it, drums his fingers on the arm rest. "Hmmm, how about some Peanut Butter M&M's," he grins, "M'feelin' hungry."

Will scoffs, "Of course, good sir." and with a dramatic bow he turns to leave.

"We'll be right back," Joyce soothes, looks over her shoulder one more time before they make their way towards the door.

\---

Nancy hangs back, during all this-- lets the Byers have a moment to themselves. _Doesn't want to intrude._ But, despite her best efforts Joyce finds her in the corner and takes a minute to scoop her up into a tight hug, all warm and maternal. Always takes that extra step in acknowledging Nancy as family _regardless,_ and Nancy has to wipe away the tear she sheds at that. 

Joyce just has that effect on people, didn't matter who. 

\--

Nancy turns back towards Jonathan and walks over to the chair by his right and settles in, taking his already outstretched hand. "Hey,"

"Hey."

"How are you feelin'?"

He stews on that, clicks his tongue, "...Short answer, or long answer?"

Nancy grins, "I've got time."

He laughs, but it gets caught after a few seconds on the residual pain in his ribs from being held down, back in the forest. 

Meanwhile Nancy's eyes widen as she goes to grab his water and adjusts his pillow, gently guiding him to lay back for a bit. And Jonathan follows her instructions without a word, takes the offered cup. 

"Sorry."

"Not your fault," he counters, takes a sip, squeezes her hand to show her wordlessly that it's okay.

They sit peacefully, letting the quiet lull take over them for a while.

"...You know," Jonathan starts, "You didn't have to sit in the corner during all that," he turns over her hand, and begins connecting all the tiny freckles that line her arm and links them with the tip of his finger, follows a path up her veins on the way back down, "You're practically family now anyways, Nance." 

"Figured you might want some breathing room," she grins, affectionate, flushes at the thought of being a _Byers,_ and hopes the batter of her heart isn't too loud in the small room from the implication, "That's all."

The answer does seem to satisfy him, for now.

So he settles in, and after a while, falls asleep. 

\--

Nancy wasn't so sure if she liked how quiet it was in this room. It gives her too much space, too much time to think. And the longer she thinks, the quicker she comes to some unsettling realizations. Not always new ones, either. Really more just reminders than anything.

Like, how even when he puts on a good show, Nancy can usually hear the tension in Jonathan's voice. The kind he normally detaches from his tone when he tries to keep Joyce and Will at ease, so they don't have to worry so much. So they don't feel the need to coddle him, like earlier. (Knows he beats himself up when he's not in perfect health.) All of which is _why_ Nancy decides to work twice as hard to be there for him right now.

Because even with the possibility of being on his death bed, Jonathan tries to be accommodating. And that jostles something in Nancy's bones so raw it makes the Demogorgon look like nothing in comparison. 

\--

Later on, after everyone comes up to give their well wishes to Jonathan and he's well asleep, Nancy lifts up his blanket. She has to be sure. Has to check his leg even if she ends up with no sleep afterwards. _(Wouldn't be anything new.)_

She has to know so she can assess the damage. See just how deep the demogorgon dug in, see how justified she was in the wounds she inflicted. And like a vow she swears she'll try and keep the vindictive part of herself at bay. Burrowed deep where she feels like it's not enough. _Wasn't_ enough. Because that, _thing_ went after them **both.** When their guard was down, like a coward.

_How fair was that?_ she argues, feeling selfish. Both Steve and Jonathan are a part of her. Joined at the hip while she sits right in the center, soaking in their warmth and hoping that her own flames kindle them just as thorough, so the torch could continue to burn. 

_Not that anything could smother it,_ she thinks. Not when the matches that lit it were as stubborn as they. Besides, there was too much history between the trio for anything to truly shake their foundation.

So she drags her eyes down to inspect, begs her stomach to stop churning, and holds back tears after seeing the hints of deep, jagged, imperfect scars that now littered the wide expanse of Jonathan's left thigh. Almost wretches at the faded yellow bruises that bloomed up to accompany the image.

A sharp jolt runs down Nancy's spine within moments, and she regrets her own damned curiosity, but she knew she'd have to suck it up eventually. Change his bandages and such, so she doesn't mind, not really.

Didn't make the image any less jarring to her. 

And, shame as it was no matter how hard she shook her head, or closed her eyes and pressed her fists into them until she saw colors, it didn't change the image. Didn't make it disappear like an Etch-A-Sketch. 

If she didn't already feel rung out like a rag, she would have ripped the frayed edges of his blanket to shreds.

\--

Someone knocks on the door maybe fifteen minutes later and waits before unlatching it.

And that's when Mike's head pops into the room. "Nancy?" 

"Yeah?" She's not quick enough to wipe the tears in her eyes, and she knows it, wiping her nose on her sleeve. 

He carefully latches the door closed, continuing in a more hushed tone so he doesn't wake up Jonathan. "You doin' okay?" 

"Yeah, yeah I'm," Nancy lets out a breath, lets go of the cloth she's wringing in her hands, _"Fine."_

He scrunches his nose, frown fixed on his face, "Doesn't sound like it."

Her resulting glare really makes Mike want to crawl back out the door. But he wants to be there, if nothing else but to check up on her. She didn't look so good the last they saw eachother, all fury and wild-eyes. 

Though to be fair neither of them really did, but it's not Mike's clothes that are still currently covered in splotchy gore, so. (Maybe the scale tips in her favor, just slightly.)

He decides to walk over and sit across her by the window, pulling his feet up so he could wrap his arms around his drawn up knees. 

"It uh, really looked like you were workin' some shit out back there." Mike lets out, and Nancy doesn't have anything to say to dispute it. "I don't think i've seen you get that mad in a ** _long time._** Not since Holly's birthday last year--"

Her eyebrows scrunch up and she turns, looking at him like he's grown two heads. "What are you _talking_ about, Mike."

"How could you _forget,"_ he shivers with the memory. "I don't think Anderson's kid ever recovered from your 'wrath'. _I_ still haven't recovered."

Nancy huffs, "Well that brat shoved Holly and made her drop her cake! What else was i supposed to do?"

"He started **_crying,_** Nancy!" he laughs, "I think you invoked the fear of _God_ into that kid."

She can't help but find it funny to, in hindsight. "Psh, can't tell me you wouldn't have done the same."

"Oh of course! It's just," he hesitates, trying to choose his next words carefully.

She tries to be patient and let him get his bearings. Allows a minute to go by in silence. But the way he continues to wring his hands together makes her nervous. Makes her hyperaware of her own fingers digging into the fabric under her. Makes her want to toy with the blankets again. "Mike, _breathe._ You look like you're about to pop a blood vessel over there from thinking too hard--"

"Shut up!" Mike grumbles, buries his face into his knees, "It's been a long night for _all_ of us, Nancy." 

She bites her lip and winces, "Yeah... yeah you're right. I'm sorry." 

Deciding to take pity on both their nerves, and because he feels shitty over shouting at her he speaks up, sighs, "Sorry. I won't lie to you Nancy you _scared_ me back there. I wasn't sure if you were about to get mauled by a demogorgon, or possessed, or injected with venom--"

"Can it do that?" she tries to ask as calmly as she can, but she does go white at the thought. 

"...Pretty sure they can't, but still! You gotta be prepared for that shit. And you just went for it and put yourself in harm's way. What the _fuck_ Nancy!--"

"I had to protect you guys!" she snaps.

Mike shuts his mouth.

"Would you rather I had left you guys to fend for yourselves?" Nancy contends, with that fire back in her eyes, "Let the Demogorgon tear you apart?" 

"Nancy, I get it," Mike struggles, rubs the back of his neck. "But did you ever stop and think that maybe _we_ were worried about **_you?_** You put yourself in danger, and you might not have made it back _alive."_

Now she shuts up.

"You can lean on us to! You let Steve and Jonathan defend you, but not us? Fuck that! We aren't kids anymore, Nancy. I can hold a gun, same as you--"

"I know." she grins. 

He smiles, shrugs, "But I get it. Steve and Jonathan were probably right in it's line of sight and you saw **red."**

It's like a knife cutting through the air, and Mike's opened up a whole can of worms that Nancy didn't want to let spill out.

"I don't blame you for," he can't find the words, _"Whatever_ that was--"

"It was nothing."

Mike scoffs, "My ass. You fucked up a Demogorgon's face, for _them."_

She scoffs, but at least he's got his answer. "How on the money am I?"

"Annoyingly so." she huffs, shoves him as she crosses her arms and drums her fingers against her arm. 

"How'd you know?"

Mike shrugs, "Lucky guess."

Neither of them really know where to go from there, and Nancy's face is still a million shades of red, so she's not so keen on outing herself more.

"If you say anything to them, I'll--"

"Yeah yeah, I get it." he agrees to her unspoken terms, but he mumbles something else, so Nancy calls him on it. But he swears that it's 'nothing', so she lets him off the hook for now. 

"... It was for _all_ you guys, you know."

"I know," he smiles, "Figured you wouldn't chew off any heads for just anyone. Besides, must've been nice to let off some steam huh?"

"Shut up." Nancy bats him on the head with the nearest pillow, but she smiles to.

\--

Only an hour passes, and now more than anything Nancy wishes Steve was there with them. 

It slowly begins to gnaw at her sanity. She wasn't sure how long she could continue to be a rock, or how long she could keep it together without knowing how they _both_ were doing.

So when some of the teens showed up to check in on Jonathan again, bestowing gifts left and right-- one being a hand-knit, navy blue scarf from the gift shop downstairs from Jane-- Nancy tries her best to be discreet, asking them as they were all about to exit the room,

"Hey, where's Steve?"

( Alright, maybe not so discreet. )

Lucas stops and turns around with his brow raised, as he looks over at Dustin who does the exact same. Like they're having a wordless conversation that Nancy's not included in. But it closes back up as they meet her eyes,

"He's uh, in room J21. Said they needed to check his hand for infections," Dustin says, and just, the way in which he says it feels like all the air's been sucked out of him. Leaving nothing but a shredded, heavy void of the kid she's grown used to, and it's hard to take. She knows how close he and Steve were, like a brother he never really had. 

And Lucas doesn't look any different, with his face still stained with trails of dried tears. 

"Yeah," Lucas says, "Said he needed to sit down for a bit to let things settle."

"How bad is it?" Nancy's gotta know, but she's patient, letting Lucas take his time.

"Welllll," he drags, "The doctor's said he's gotta take some heavy antibiotics," 

"Buuut," Dustin interjects, "They said he should make a full recovery. Long as he stays away from feeding anymore raccoons--"

"Right," Lucas says, "And _why_ was that our cover again?" Nancy has to cover her mouth to smother the laugh that wants to bubble up, the other going to Dustin's shoulder to be comforting.

"Oh, like your plan was any better Lucas," the pointed look Lucas sends him shows the opposite. 

"...Okay I panicked, alright!--"

Nancy sighs, _God, not this shit again,_ and motions to put a hand between them--

"Guys, you have got to see this." Max barges in, the hand holding the knob now drumming over it. Her eyes are serious, but she's buzzing, like she's about to say something mindblowing. "Steve said he might actually let us see his hand!"

(Nancy's glad the redhead arrived when she did so she doesn't have to forcibly break them up.)

Meanwhile Lucas' face reaches a sort of grimace, biting his lip, "Why do you _want_ to see it? Didn't Mike _just_ say it 'probably' wasn't for the faint of heart?" 

"Eh," she shrugs, "Just means he'll be more prepared than us. Now come on," and she walks out, leaving the door propped open as a silent invitation. (It wasn't like they _weren't_ curious.)

But even then, nobody misses how wet Max's eyes were when she leaves, and they don't jump to call attention to it.

And, while Nancy is rendered speechless with _that_ heartbreaking thought, she's reminded of the heavy weight in their steps and how they're all decidedly not _kids_ anymore, as she watches them pour out. 

Well, almost all of them. Dustin and Will are the last two, since Will springs back to Jonathan's side at the last minute and pulls something out of his pockets and sets it down on his nightstand. Three packs of Peanut Butter M&M's, just like he'd promised earlier. Jonathan's completely ecstatic, and he goes to meet Will for a quick fist bump and gives him a grateful nod before he exits, while Will looks over his shoulder with a smile before he shuts the door.

Now, if Nancy's being honest? That might be the first time the whole night that her heart melts instead of shatters, pocketing the moment for later when she's feeling especially down.

But the sight of Dustin lingering by Jonathan and giving him a toothy smile as he leaves, makes Nancy feel like she needs to set some things straight, from earlier.

"Hey, Dustin?"

"Yeah?"

She wasn't sure where to go from there but she follows her first instinct, as a sudden wave of gratitude and protectiveness mixes and unfurls at the seams, and she goes to give the curly haired boy a big hug, fierce in it's volition. And when he immediately wrap his arms tight around her back, she can't help but let out an 'oof' at the strength of it. Maybe Mike was onto something earlier, about being able to depend on them.

"Thank you. Give Lucas a hug for me to, yeah?"

\--

She wonders not long after they leave, if Steve's upset she didn't make her way to check up on him yet, when in reality she was hoping-- unrealistic as it is, considering the conditions and the tight restrictions-- that Jonathan and Steve would share a room.

She had to make sure that Jonathan was doing alright first though, and, for now, not focus on the gnawing feeling building up in her gut that maybe Steve bled out since she was gone. That maybe she missed something and the creature hit a vital artery, or burst through a vein and Steve was only just now feeling the effects. Or maybe he was hiding it, shrugging it off in favor of Jonathan being first priority. All of those possibilities had her bones chilled and her heart raked against the coals all at once. 

_...Maybe a peek wouldn't hurt._

So she makes up her mind and shoots up from her chair by Jonathan's bed, resolve unshaken.

_Shouldn't take too long anyway,_ she figures.

Though just as Nancy crosses the distance and turns the knob to open the door and make her way to the lobby-- Steve turns up, on the other side of the door like he was about to knock at the same exact time. 

She didn't find it fair that even with the dirt and all the caked bits of leaves stuck in his hair, that he still retains his charm, and _that's_ got her heart picking up for an altogether different reason now.

"Oh, hey Nance."

"Hey." she's not sure where to go from there. 

"I, uh, was just on my way to check on you," she hates how stirred up she feels, like she can't form coherent sentences without taking a breath. But she couldn't help it, when it all kicks up dust into the air seeing his bandages again. _~~Reminders of what they've been through not a couple hours ago.~~ _Can't help it when she reflexively clenches her fist in her coat pocket. But at least the wraps look fresh. Someone must have changed them not too long ago--

His grin's warm, his whole body leaning in as his working hand braces against the door panel, "Oh, miss me that much?"

She scoffs, rolls her eyes but flushes head to toe while she steps aside, welcomes him in with a flourishy gesture and a smile,

"Come on in."

\--

_Little did he know he was essentially walking into an interrogation._

"Nancy, really i'm fine."

"Just wanna make sure, you look pale," she frets, and Steve sees it, with the way she's been clucking at him since he sat down. And on top of that, there's a shaky waver in her grip she can't quite hide as she hands the cup of ice chips to him, and it all just makes his heart _ache._

"Always been pale, Nance."

"Paler than _normal,"_ she repeats, her firm tone indicating that, shredded hand or not, she would worry, and there was really nothing he could do about it.

"Alright, alright," and he lets it go, and frankly when she walks over and picks up his other hand in her smaller one? He doesn't put up much of a fight.

\--

A few minutes after that Nancy sits by Jonathan's bed opposite Steve, and watches him fuss with the cloth around his hand.

"Steve," she warns, "Just leave it." her tone's firm, but he doesn't listen as he gets away with the _exact opposite_ and goes to tug the fabric away anyway. Carefully unravels it so he can put his arm towards the light of the lamp and see exactly what massacre's left behind. (Truthfully he's just happy to even _have_ his hands after all that mess-- even if it looks like he went through a cheese grater with a hidden agenda.) 

Compared to how it felt in the moment it's _very_ superficial in Steve's opinion. With most of the wounds being small digs into the skin, but a few of the canines managed to submerge deep enough to probably scar overtime. 

He starts to wonder if he would need stitches. Not that it's Steve's first concern, but still. 

Nancy on the other hand-- no pun intended-- holds an overall kind of morbid curiosity towards it, and the way some of the digs and scratches form intricate around his palm, even as her chest tightens when it's revealed in the light. Really she feels the pain of his bite like it's her own. Feels the vague, yet burning phantom slice of a knife in her own palm. Like it hasn't been five years or so since her and Jonathan bled on his carpet and laid their traps, back when they all first wrecked havoc on an unsuspecting demogorgon. She tightens her hand into a fist, releases it, and smooths her thumb over the all-too familiar scar that marks her own skin. (Almost in near penance for her straying thoughts, when she thinks too long about what Jonathan would have to say about it.)

It's not a picture perfect likeness, so it feels like a stretch, but the new indents in Steve's palm leave room to slide easy between her ribs regardless. Feels it's warmth and implications settle hot and heavy so she's barely able to breathe from the thoughts stewing in her, restless. 

Indescribable. 

Not unlike the feelings that rose with her earlier, all hot-blood and anger.

Except there's no anger. Not right now, not in this sterile room by her boys. 

(She wonders for a second just who's up there. Deciding, plotting. Whatever higher power deems them worth this grand plan they've put into place for the three of them.)

Nancy wasn't against a good waxed poetic, but it took a lot more than making empty assumptions to have any of this make sense. _So she could get past some of those cautious barricades she's always had._

She looks to her left, and wishes she could chuck her worries right out that third-story window so it lands with a bang.

Shatter the barriers to broken glass, right on that pavement.

\--

Jonathan stirs between them, eyes heavy as he lifts up, but now that he can tell there's more than one person in the room? He's _wide awake._

"Oh, hey! You're up," Nancy notices the red in Jonathan's eyes, but it's severely less than it was a few hours ago, now that he's getting some sleep.

"We were waitin' for you Sleeping Beauty," Steve jokes, "Almost ate your pudding cup while you were conked out." 

Jonathan groans and shields himself from the fluorescent lights so he can let his eyes adjust.

"Hey guys, what's up-- _woah."_

It doesn't take either of them much time at all to figure out what he's referring to.

"That's... really gnarly." there's no bite or disgust when Jonathan says it. He just states it like a fact, and lingers a bit too long. Lingers on Steve and soaks in the lines and curves of his now exposed hand with the same single-minded focus that Nancy paid him not a few minutes prior.

Steve meanwhile couldn't help but think. _What was so fascinating about his scars anyway? They didn't serve a purpose, didn't look pretty. What was the point?_

It just leaves Steve feeling puzzled, and somehow self-conscious and weirdly defensive about it in the moment. So he curls his hand up close to his chest, and doesn't care about the blood that'll soak his new shirt.

But he recovers enough to respond, "You think **_that's_** gnarly? Did you get a good look at your leg, man?" he hisses out his sympathy, "Looks _awful."_

Jonathan just smirks, _"Feels_ awful too." 

"Oh, I'm sure," Steve chuckles, deciding to rest his arm back down and ends up propping it against Jonathan's chest.

_And oddly enough, Jonathan feels the temperature in the room rise at the touch._

"T-think there's enough Neosporin in Nancy's backpack for the both of us?"

Steve looks far too content, making himself at home in the scratchy chair.

"Hmmm, might need to make a trip for more," Steve chuckles, turning towards her, "Do they come in gallon jugs, Nance?"

Being the center of attention all of a sudden has Nancy oddly flustered. (And that's really a feat, considering not much catches her off guard anymore, monster or no.)

But, she figures that at least in the moment--she could forget about her caution and her barriers, with Steve and Jonathan there.

The thought warms her sure and sweet, buried beneath her veins. Wanting to take their hands, and--

"No," she giggles, "Afraid not. Might have to deal without for now, unless you think the jelly from my sandwich would work."

Steve's stomach growls. "Worth a shot," and he instantly shoots out his hand for her bag, hunger driven.

"Steve I wasn't serious, _lay off!--"_

Both the guys laugh it up when Nancy yanks her backpack up into her lap, like it holds the secrets of the universe or something. (Jonathan wouldn't be surprised if she hid that from them. Maybe it's some truce between the Wheeler siblings. Some, _bag of holding_ that she refused to tell anyone about.) 

But she smiles instead, pulling out the homemade peanut butter and jelly and hands it over as a peace offering.

And Steve, thoroughly touched, takes it, gingerly opening the Ziploc bag, "Thanks, Nance."

"Course," she says, like it wasn't even a question. Like there wasn't any other option besides that, and it's all too soft for what the exchange _was_ in hindsight. 

But she figures after all their combined near death experiences, that they're all allowed a bit of tenderness, just this one time.

So she's content, but she can't help feeling like she's forgetting something. 

"Oh! Wait, Steve. I, I got this back for you," she plucks his switchblade from her coat-- the one she picked up off the grass after their encounter with the Demogorgon-- and wipes off excess ick. Then hands it back closed to Steve. "Sorry about the mess."

"Nancy," he takes it. "It, it's... why?"

She looks at him, a bit incredulous, and she can't understand why he just doesn't _get_ it. 

Why he doesn't understand the lengths she'd go to to make sure he feels _safe._

And if it took her retrieving his belongings back? Then it was a simple enough gesture in her eyes.

But she's not sure how to put that into words right now, so she just shrugs, lays it out simple and sweet, "It was important to you."

_Why else?_

\---

Aside from the couple doctors that visit to check Jonathan's progress and attach him to pain-killers, It's cozy in the small room, with the soft hum of a fan putting the three of them in a far more relaxed state than well, earlier.

But then Nancy looks down at her hands, and spots some dry blood still underneath her fingernails. Some of it from trying to help compress her wounds, some from the boys, some even deeper still from... the demogorgon. Grits her teeth as she shoves whatever memories **_that_** wants to spring, right back where it came from. 

"I'll be right back," and Nancy heads over to the bathroom to wash her hands again. 

Which leaves both guys to themselves.

Though not long after she leaves, Steve feels the need to break the monotony. One for it being too quiet for his liking and two, well, he's a lot more concerned for Jonathan than he'd like to admit. And just from looking at him as the doctor's turned him over earlier, it made the perfect angle for Steve to see the ugly tears in his leg, and well... lets just say the Demogorgon should be grateful that Steve's run out of juice. That he doesn't just go back and take Nancy's bat and chase it around the block. 

"Hey, Jonathan," Steve starts, and the other's head lazily rolls to meet his eyes. 

"How's the uh," he gestures towards Jonathan's leg, "Ya know."

If Steve describes it further than that he'll turn sick. 

"Oh, never better," the tone's breezy, and in any other case Steve would think Jonathan's fucking with him, or bottling it up. But with the glazed over look that's now plastered to Jonathan's face, he can only guess that the morphine's finally kicked in. 

"On cloud nine Byers? Good." It wasn't where he wants to end that. Steve's got way more to say-- but it's effectively thrown out when Jonathan rises up from his mountain of pillows, and snatches up Steve's only working hand. Runs both his thumbs along the pads of his fingers and forges a path.

"Huh." Jonathan says. And then, so out of nowhere that it makes Steve jump, he giggles. Not for a long time but it's full of mirth. Full of life, and it flows past Steve's ears easy like liquid and causes warmth to shoot up his spine like a chain reaction. Doesn't remember the last time he's even _heard_ Byers laugh. And yeah, _that_ sort of relaxation doesn't come by easily these days, but it's getting better. There's not _nearly_ as many threats as there were before, and they're all closer to a sense of normalcy than was really achievable a few years back. So if Jonathan's managed to steal back some of that joy, then Steve's glad. 

"I just," Jonathan starts, then thinks better of it and backtracks. "I didn't expect you to have, uh,"

"Big hands?" Steve jokes, feeling like he's earned something from how red Jonathan gets. But he doesn't let it linger, deciding to turn it back around. "If you're talking about the huge vein that's sticking out from my middle finger?" he wiggles it, "I uh, dropped a basketball on it making some shots _years_ ago," then he breathes through his nose, like he's reliving it, "Bent my finger, lost some air, and i went down."

_"Shit,"_ Jonathan's careful going around it now, "M'sorry Harrington."

"Eh," Steve shrugs, "It was years ago."

Jonathan still won't let him have his hand back, so he waits it out. Not that Steve's in a rush or anything, but it's the principal of it.

"...I was actually going to say calluses, before," Jonathan admits, one hand carding up Steve's arm and through the hairs, causing a line of goosebumps to run up the expanse.

Steve's brows furrow. "I mean, when you've swung a bat for as long as i have," 

Jonathan snorts, "I guess you're right." 

"You _guess?"_ and at Steve's incredulous look Jonathan just laughs, "Who saved your ass back there, huh?"

Jonathan just smiles, ready for it once the giggles subside and he wipes away his tears, "Nancy."

"Oh, _fuck_ you," Steve says, shoves his shoulder but it's in jest, smiling to, "I had your back and you know it."

Jonathan sobers, nods, "Yeah, i know." And finally content he slowly releases Steve's hand so it can lull back to his side, where Steve _swears_ it's colder now. And the only thing that warms him back up is the easy smile that rests on Jonathan's face, when he lays back and closes his eyes.

_Fuck_ if Steve can't let it be, "...You know,"

It takes some effort, but Jonathan pries his eyes back open. "What?"

"You... anyone ever tell you you've got a nice smile, Byers?"

He's one more second from regretting saying anything, but Jonathan speaks up, clearly stunned. "Not you, no."

"Well, you do." and before Steve can manage much else Nancy comes back in, tossing her washcloth in the corner.

"Hey guys," she smiles, feeling cleansed, "Did i miss anything?"

Steve looks like he's been caught red-handed to a crime he didn't commit.

But Jonathan's quick to make light of it, cutting through the fog. "Not much... other than you never told me about Steve's fucked up finger."

"Hey," Steve gasps, betrayed, "That was told in _confidence,_ Byers!" 

Nancy laughs as she sees them pretend to duke it out, and settles back into their space.

\--

Once things begin to wind down, Steve gently taps Jonathan's iv bag, and scooches closer into his space. Proceeds to whisper in his ear, clearly conspiring, and Nancy can tell already that it can't be anything _good_ from the glint in his eyes. 

"It's a shame the gift shop doesn't sell this junk," Steve laments, "Wonder if the doctors would mind me siphoning some off for later." 

Jonathan snorts, puts an arm behind his head, "Hmm, don't let me stop you." 

Nancy's quick to step in with her two cents, with a hand on Steve's shoulder and the other set demurely over her chest as she fixes on a lofty tone. "Oh, but however will you escape if you're caught, Casanova? We're three stories up and you might drop the bag."

Steve scoffs, "I'll have you know Nance, that the stories of a house haven't ever stopped me before."

Her heart stumbles and her cheeks flame with the sharp memory of flashcards and well-intentioned means to study. "Fair. Besides, I think they keep track of their supply, so."

Steve looks wounded that she'd foiled his plan, clutching his chest and feigning sorrow, "Why you gotta harsh the man's buzz, Nance?" 

She laughs, from deep in her gut as she relishes in the matching red of Steve's cheeks, "Gotta keep my boys out of trouble don't i?"

Steve and Jonathan both freeze in place, looking at eachother before looking at her. 

_"Your_ boys?" Jonathan looks to Steve again, then back at her, "What sort of trouble are we talkin' here Nancy?"

She meets them both head on, with a sure glint in her eyes,

"Trouble i can't bail them out of."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: the one time i didn't check something for accuracies sake, and it was peanut butter m&ms LMAO, like!!! idk i just figured it was a thing that's been around a LONG TIME, like even my mom was like 'that's a LIE i know i had those when i was a kid' so iiiii, left it alone for once lmao, but i guess in that case then this fic prob does take place in 89 instead of 88 so *shrugs*
> 
> NOT TO MENTION I JUST, couldn't help myself and made a few really silly d&d refs just thrown in there LMAO~
> 
> i keep feeling like im forgetting something important... OH RIGHT LOL, that whole story that steve tells about his fucked up finger?? that happened to me once when i was in middle school lmao, SO much more painful than you'd think it'd be tbh


	3. even just to reach is a triumph

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi again! c: im not gonna lie, this part was a nightmare and a half to edit LMAO, it took probably the most out of me and my friend who was helping me beta it? like?? im still super proud of it! but m a n was this somethin else lmao. like, there's a TON of callbacks to the first chapter of course that will probably be obvious once it's read but *shrugs* who knows~
> 
> also i didn't really notice until now that all the chapters so far have been updated in like, 3k intervals? 3k 6k 9k etc etc lmao
> 
> anyways, i hope you enjoy! <3

Not an hour goes by and Jonathan's close to dozing off with Steve's hand in his, leaving lone fingers to relax and trail up his veins while Nancy's nails graze down from the base of Jonathan's skull to the back of his neck. Listens to her hum some song under her breath, and the combination of it leaves him a hazy, sleepy mess. They both succeed in melting his nerves away, where his arguments for why he _shouldn't_ be letting this happen go to die.

But he bolts up, remembers something while the monitor to the right of him indicates the immediate rise in his pulse and rats him out,

_"Shit."_

"What?"

Jonathan's face goes all red, when he meets Nancy's eyes.

"...Ya know, nevermind, it's not important."

"Jonathan it is to _me._ Now come on, what is it?"

He breathes, braces himself, "Well, with my leg getting all mangled, and the show being next week,"

"Oh. Right." _The concert._

She rubs his back, "Jonathan, it's okay, we can still go."

"Nancy," there's that tone again. Like he thinks he's being a burden when he's **not.** _As if she wouldn't snatch up the fucking_ moon _for him._

"No really! Come on Jonathan, you've been looking forward to this for _months,"_ nearly broke her seeing him like this, all down in the dumps.

"If I have to wheel you there myself I will." A lightbulb brightens in her head.

_"Or,"_ her voice drawls, turns so she's facing Steve with the most toothy, totally _not_ cat catching the canary grin she can manage, "We cut the middle man and have Steve carry you there."

"Great plan Nance, but how is he supposed to sneak in?"

"Woah woah woah," Steve interjects, still groggy, _"Sneak in?_ Why would I have to sneak in?"

Jonathan chuckles, "Look Steve, I know you're good at pullin' strings, but--"

Then it suddenly clicks, with his mind flashing back to all those times he'd be talking to Steve on the phone about the concert and he'd change subjects _entirely._ Or Nancy would say she's so excited to be one of his plus ones. Or that time Nancy was busy at work and Steve's line was busy x number of times _\--on a **tuesday** of all days--_ when he needed to call about Will--

Jonathan's face lights up with the realization. It's still in the works as a theory, sure, but he's got to try it out. "You're the one who called the radio station, weren't you?"

Steve gapes, knows when he's been caught hook line and sinker. 

-

"Oh, yeah, that part was kinda, half my idea." 

None of that sentence seems to really stick in Jonathan's ears, so he stays mute.

But that only leaves Steve feeling more nervous. "Hah, surprise?"

"You went through all that trouble, just for that?" it's soft when Jonathan says it, and it's a notion he's not sure how to take.

"Well, it sure beats waiting in line for 3 hours. Really you haven't seen anything until you're dripping head to toe just waiting for Blondie tickets, believe me. Last time I go by myself to get tickets for Rob--" Steve barely finishes that statement before the hand that was holding Jonathan's becomes a tether for the other to pull Steve down into a hug almost _so tight_ that it knocks the wind right out of him.

"It's, it's not a big deal man, really."

"Hmm," Jonathan shrugs, "Well, maybe it is to me." he shares it like it's some secret, muffled into the collar of Steve's shirt. 

Nancy looks on and tries not to move in the squeaky, broken down chair so she doesn't disturb the moment. Doesn't want to call attention to herself and refuses to miss anything important. So she sits raptured just, watching.

"Jonathan, really," Steve says, finally looping an arm around him and meets Nancy's hand along the way, "I'd do it again in a heartbeat. You guys always walk around so _tense,_ and,"

He can tell Jonathan wants to fight that. From the sudden tension in his body Steve _knows_ he does. But Jonathan just doesn't have it in him. Doesn't have the energy to devote to it right now, especially not now when Nancy starts to run a hand along his back in slow, lazy circles. So he lowers his hunched shoulders, and Steve feels safe to continue, heart lodged in his throat.

"And I just figured hey, maybe you guys needed a break, from, well, everything. So when Nancy brought up the concert, and came to me when she couldn't manage to snatch up the tickets in time, I just. Thought I'd help brainstorm." Steve pulls back and looks down, slowly meeting his eyes,

"And here we are."

_And here we are,_ Nancy thinks.

"I'll be honest I was buggin' for a bit, thinking I went over some boundaries. Sure there's something in the rule books about that," he chuckles, but there's no humor in it, "Not helping your ex find an anniversary gift for their not ex."

Steve's tongue feels like it's secured to the roof of his mouth, but he clicks it, decided. "But screw the rules right?"

Both Nancy and Jonathan flinch from the intensity of his words.

"If someone up there," Steve points upwards, "Thinks it's chill to let a bunch of demon dogs loose, then screw it. Maybe I _want_ to help you guys out. Maybe I _want_ to see the look on your faces when you're happy. When we're not all tied up in this, _bullshit."_ he's not sure where to run with that thought; his bold dare to the universe. But he lets it out, let's it all motormouth out.

"I guess what I'm getting at is... maybe I don't know what I'm getting at. Really it's not," the words fail him, leaves him bare. "Maybe it's not the right time, or," and for whatever reason, in a moment of clarity he stops there, loses the air underneath his wings and decides to slouch back into his chair. Defeated.

Nancy can't help it when not too long after that filters through, she's hit with a _strong_ urge to smooth out the rough patches in Steve's posture and in his voice. Maybe settle his aches while she's at it. And once _that_ thought enters her head it won't _leave._ So she feels very compelled to grab Jonathan's hand and reach out. To push back a sweaty piece of Steve's hair and she does just that, fixing it back into place.

"No, go on."

"Right, okay. Well," Steve can't face either of them straight on, so he focuses on a point in the corner of the room, over Nancy's shoulder. "I just, I care about you two, _a lot._ You're _better_ together. Two halves of a whole and shit. So if you two were torn apart, I," he can't fathom the thought so it hangs loose in the air, chilling them all. 

"I dunno how to explain it. It, feels _wrong,_ like," he thinks, thoughtful, "Like when your guitar's out of tune. Or your body's all thrown out," he's stalling, trying to find the words out of thin air. Something that will turn the cogs and make his metaphors click.

But Steve seems to find evidence for his case soon enough, looking at them.

"Or your hands not all," he looks down at their tangled hands, gestures with his. Thinks of the imperfect, matching scars laying underneath, _"That."_

Nancy doesn't expect it but she giggles freely, feeling like being a bit honest herself.

"Yeah?" she turns her and Jonathan's hands over, with the palms facing up and shows them to Steve, clear as day.

"Like you don't have scars matching ours now--" Nancy figures she should be reeling back, so she can retract the statement before it really hits the fan, but no.

She just _had_ to address the elephant in the room.

Her and Jonathan were thinking it, sure, but she had to go and put it into _words._ Didn't mean to paint Steve a freaking diagram. Cast a light on an unintentional blood oath, effectively shoving all their hearts right out into the spotlight over _flesh wounds._ But really it didn't matter in the end. Steve could kick them to the curb if he wanted. 

The ball was in his court, and they just had to wait it out. See what play he'd make.

Steve looks at his own arm, then his palm, and he sees she's right, with his fresh wounds illuminating her point.

He gingerly turns it side to side, looks it over, and shudders at the gore but he does consider Nancy's words. Considers the implications, considers what people might say and just doesn't **_give a fuck._**

_Is **this** what it felt like to them that first night with the Demogorgon? _

_Like you were a part of something bigger?_

". . . Is it crazy if I say that I kinda like it?" 

He flushes when they both instantly meet his eyes, with a look he can't quite gauge. 

"No," and there goes Jonathan, being brave and crossing the distance to take Steve's hand in his own and kisses his palm over the wraps, not one thought being thrown about germs or anything. Just, overwhelmed with a need to do it, "Not at all." 

Steve clears his throat, almost wishing he had his hand back just so he could pull at his collar, but he refuses to pull back or let go. And Nancy seems to agree with the sentiment, because she doesn't make a move to say anything or throttle him-- not that she would anyway. Nor does she have that fire in her eyes when she's _especially_ mad. Or that quirk where her nose sorta just, scrunches, and _that's_ when you know you're in trouble. But instead she sits there, taking it in, almost like she's anticipating what might happen next. 

And you know what? So is he.

(Instantaneously a lone thought strikes him and sticks, allowing him to forge his own answers.

Figures that maybe, _just maybe,_ three halves can make a whole to.)

\--

The clock strikes twelve, and the three of them are still in the same place as they were before. 

At the hospital. In close quarters, with _way_ too much on their mind. So much that it's driving them stir crazy. With Nancy biting her nails to the nub, Jonathan pulling the loose string of his hospital gown off for nothing better to do, and Steve, who toys with a pencil he found on the ground and drums it against his leg. As much as they want to will it into existence, ignoring shit just doesn't seem _possible_ right now. Their chests pound too loud, their room runs too hot, and the atmosphere's chock- _full_ of words they won't say. Not that they really know _what_ to say, but that's exactly the point. No one's brave enough yet to address... _whatever_ this is.

It's starting to feel like a game of chicken, where none of the participants decide to lean in.

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve spots Nancy fidgeting with her necklace. Truthfully he wasn't much for jewelry himself-- save for that one time he wanted to pierce his eyebrow when he was 13 and his dad said _"Absolutely **Not"** \--_ but he thought it looked cool. The locket's base was in the shape of a regal looking lion, and the chain was a muted gold color. Maybe it clashed a bit, but who knows, not like it was his to make that call.

She must've found something wrong with it though, because in an instant Nancy takes up a corner of her shirt, pours some water on it, and starts to polish the chain. And sure, a strip of skin's exposed from her efforts and his cheeks turn red, but that's not really what's got Steve's attention. It's more the effort she puts into it, into every little thing she does. _The unwavering attention she gives even to the most menial of things._

In fact Nancy's concentrating _so_ hard she bites down on her bottom lip, like all those other times he's watched her reload her gun over the years. And the focus she lends to the task is so intensely familiar, and so achingly _careful,_ that Steve feels the need to look away before anyone can call him on it.

_Maybe this was a bad idea,_ Steve sweats, rethinking this whole thing, _can barely be in the same room with them without losing it._

Almost like Jonathan's picked up on his inner turmoil he stretches to dim the lights on the lamp, and he huffs when his bangs fall in his face. Steve wants to reach over and fix it, but Jonathan blows the strands away before he's even got a chance and settles back into his sheets, looking over at Nancy now to.

Steve inwardly groans, _What was the **matter** with him?_ He needed to keep his cool. Maybe do some of those breathing exercises Robin always swears by.

While Steve takes a few breaths, Jonathan stretches, feeling antsy after being in the same spot for what's felt like forever, and picks up his backpack. Sifts through it until he finds purchase and pulls out a box of cards. Once he's made sure they're all in there he shuffles, being very meticulous about it, and cuts through the deck until he's satisfied.

"Hey, Steve," Jonathan calls, bringing attention to the set of cards he's got loaded in his hand and extends them fanned out towards him, "Pick one."

"Alright," Steve chuckles, reaching out, but it's with the same sense of caution that should only really be reserved for a skittish animal. (When in reality it's because Steve's afraid that if he passes his hand over Jonathan's, then his other hand will start to burn to.) But he plucks one up regardless, looks to Jonathan before he lifts it to his face.

And before he can ask or say anything, Jonathan cuts him off, "Is it the Queen of Hearts?"

Steve's eyes widen, full of wonder and without a hint of skepticism. "Wha-- Wait, how did you..?"

Jonathan grins, and hmm, _that's_ different. But it's warm, and it reaches the corner of his eyes, "Wouldn't you like to know."

Huh. Well, _that_ shot any of Steve's cool right to hell.

He scoffs, hopes he doesn't look as stunned as he feels, "Come on Byers, not even a hint?"

"Nope," Jonathan says simply, and there it is again, that grin-- though it's far too cocky to really count as one. It's an anomaly. Two smirks from Byers, for him, within the span of twenty-four hours. As if this day couldn't _get_ any weirder. _"I'll never tell."_

"Come on man," Steve begs, makes a show of it by gesturing with his hands, "It's not fair. Why do you get to have all your cards so fucking close to your chest--"

**_"Shit."_** and like the scratch of a needle a metal 'clang' sound alerts them both, turning towards the source to where Nancy sits in her chair, and then in the direction of the ricocheting pieces of her necklace skipping across the floor. 

"I got it," Steve manages to bolt to it quicker than Nancy can reach, and he clutches the pieces in his hand. Of course the tension releases eventually and It slowly morphs into a cradle, like he's holding a baby bird in his grip.

Saying she's puzzled is an understatement and a half. "Steve,"

"No really Nance, I've got it," and oh if _that_ sentence didn't cause a jolt to run jagged towards her heart. Remembers only hours before when he'd said about the same thing, out in the forest, _before they got mauled._ But was it really comparable, the demogorgon attack and a broken necklace? Why couldn't she keep it in the back of her mind, under lock and key? They weren't in any danger. Nothing's a threat in these four walls.

Nancy hesitates, but she's not sure why. "You sure?"

"Oh yeah, totally. Just a bit of reconfiguring, that's all," he goes to loop the necklace chain around the small hole of the locket, tongue hanging out, "Then it will be good as new!"

About thirty seconds pass, and his hands turn sweaty. Hard enough fixing something with a busted hand, and yet here he was, trying to make miracles happen. 

"Almost got it," Steve assures, cursing his butterfingers for slipping every time. Another fumble and his fingers start to shake, and his hands start to slip more. "Why do they make these things like you're defusing a bomb--"

"Steve," Jonathan says, "Really it's fine. Maybe we can take it to the shops later and--"

"No, no man I've got it, shut up!" Steve feels his eyes start to water. Whether it's from the pain in his hand or _what,_ he's not sure.

"Steve, it's not the end of the world, really," Nancy soothes, walking over and placing a hand on his arm, "It's okay. We can fix this together." _Like they do everything else,_ but Nancy doesn't feel inclined to spike the ball.

Progressively getting more irritated with himself Steve keeps up his task, seeing it to the end. 

"Nancy, you don't get it."

"What wouldn't I get, Steve?" Nancy says, exasperated, "It's not like _you_ broke it or anything--"

"Nancy, let me handle it." Steve knows she's right, that he's taking it too personal and that he needs to get a grip. But something about this necklace is what serves to break the camel's back. And it begins to cave in the carefully crafted facade that he'd built up ages ago. 

"Steve, it's alright," Jonathan speaks up, turning pale, "Come on man your bandages are coming loose, let us at least _help."_

Even with the reassurance Steve stands still, feeling caught between a rock and a hard place.

Nancy sighs, "Why are you being so weird about this?" It's getting late, and her brain feels like it's fried even with how hot-wired she is, so she's not sure how many more of these guessing games she's able to take right now. 

But then her eyebrows scrunch up, and her doe eyes turn quizzical, "You're acting like it's yours or something."

Both guys freeze and look at eachother, but then think better of it and look away. Like they were caught in the act. Nancy's about to push it, ask more questions, but now they won't meet her gaze, and things start to make sense.

Why Steve was so gung-ho about helping her with the anniversary gift. Why he stuck his neck out for her. Volunteered himself and went with it, every step of the way. It was a collaboration of _both_ their efforts, sure, but what did he have to gain from all this? At the end of the day Steve wouldn't get any of the credit. _(Just like with the camera._ She tried to fight him on it at the time, but he insisted that it wasn't a big deal.)

Despite that she was immensely grateful, and aside from the fact that he managed to snatch up his own ticket, he took time out of his _week_ to do all this. Coordinated times with her so that they would be number 3 to call the station. All while he could have been out picking up a couple extra shifts, when he could have been out doing other shit. Hell he even offered to help pay upfront! To _scalpers_ no less. Who in the hell would work under those conditions. 

Steve could argue it until he went blue in the face, but Nancy knew better.

"The tickets weren't _just_ tickets... were they Steve?"

Even Jonathan looks over, when Steve's not quick to defend his case. Even when he lets his mouth hang open before closing it again, allowing her another retort.

"It was everything. The tickets, that cold you caught stressing over it," Nancy's on a roll, but she can't bring herself to say what's really on her mind. Doesn't want to stick her own neck out and have it snap if she's wrong. But really... that wasn't fair. Steve went the extra mile, and if she knew either of them as well as she does, she knows they won't leave her hanging.

"Just," she sighs, worn out, "I need to _know._ Whether it's all in my head, or some, fucked up figment of my imagination." _or if we're all just going in circles for nothing just **tell** me, before I get my hopes up._

"What does all this mean, Steve? You tell me."

Steve isn't sure how to approach this, rubbing the back of his neck while twin pairs of eyes wait on his every word. "Nance, I,"

The words she wants to say hang around her neck and threaten to choke her out, if she doesn't just _say_ it.

"Wait, so, _no,_ no way," Her eyes soften, when she looks between them, carefully picks up the locket from Steve's open hands, and comes to an easy conclusion. 

Allows the synapses to flare and make a home in her veins. 

Nancy's eyes begin to water at the edges, but she's seeing clearer by the second now, when she looks back at Jonathan.

"Steve helped you pick it out." It's not a question. She knows. 

Jonathan stumbles, "He... maybe gave me a ride. And made sure I had a second opinion." 

"I'm not mad Jonathan, really," she had to clear that _right_ up. He shouldn't be feeling guilty. _Neither_ of them should be feeling guilty, not for this. Not for any of this, "I'm just curious as to _why_ more than anything." but she's not looking at him anymore.

She's looking over at Steve. 

"What, you expect me to say no to a _Byers?"_ Steve reasons, like it's an indisputable fact, "Course I was gonna answer the call. He asked me to pick between a couple options and I couldn't help myself. You know how it is," it's a weak defense, in the face of Nancy. (Even if she can relate.) 

"Uh huh," she teases, because despite the atmosphere Nancy can't _help_ it, when she laughs **_with_** their logic, tongue against her teeth, "So."

"So," Jonathan catches on, chuckles as he points all sluggish at Steve, the morphine still working it's magic, _"You're_ the ticket master." 

_"And_ the jewelry master to boot," Nancy grins, and now Steve feels like he's being dog-pilled, with their matching glee written all over their faces. 

Effectively tag-teamed he relents, face going crimson, "W-Well, I wouldn't take all the credit. It was your guys ideas in the first place, didn't need me in the middle for that--" 

"You could have said no," Jonathan says, "Let us fend for ourselves."

Steve scoffs, "Since when is _that_ an option?" he almost sounds offended. "No way. Can't get rid of me that easily."

"Who said anything about leaving you behind?" Nancy throws in, soft. "You're with us, Harrington. No going back now."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

They all let that stew, and now they're stuck back at square one. 

Then again, they did take that first step, and even if they go backwards now, they can't retract that. 

But, if there was anything Nancy was sure of about herself-- she could never learn to let things go, even if it meant her life. 

So, blunt as ever, Nancy lets it spill out, "Why a lion anyway, Steve?"

\---

Well, the cat's out of the bag now.

But they both look at him, expectant. Waiting for him to let the other shoe drop.

Steve shrugs, knows in the back of his mind that his nonchalance holds no weight now, as he gestures towards the culprit in her hand. "I don't know. Really I just figured the lion looked badass--" it's a lie, it's a very blatant, filthy lie and they both pick up on it way too fast and call him on it.

So he backtracks, "It isn't some grand symbolic shit like I--Byers wanted, but I just thought, ya know."

"Hey," she puts her hands up in defense, "It's sweet, really. Besides, I've got no issue with lions," she giggles, goes for Steve's hair so she can rustle it and cups his cheek once she's satisfied with the volume she's created. "Nice mane, big heart. What more could a girl want," she mumbles.

Throwing herself into a new tangent to hide her slip she hums, thoughtful, "Interesting animals, to. Did you know they hunt in storms?" _Where did that come from,_ she winces.

But they just sit and stare, enraptured anyway.

"Huh," Steve says, and Jonathan picks up on it, just as dumbfounded, "Wonder why."

"Seems like it makes it easier to catch prey," Nancy offers, "The rumbling must muffle their sounds." 

She pulls back and taps her nail to her chin. Further contemplates stuff like she's about two second away from pulling a whole encyclopedia out of her backpack. (She could, but she doesn't _need_ to put another ten pounds into her bag, _thank you.)_

"Though really if you ask me? They just seem to be real _danger chasers,"_ she snorts, "Sound familiar?"

Jonathan and Steve easily concede to that on a laugh, but Jonathan feels the need to throw his take on it, "Like it was our choice in the first place to be _danger chasers."_

"True," she agrees. "Though, to be _fair,_ we did--"

"Want to kill it, I know." Jonathan doesn't need to ask. He couldn't forget their first run-ins with the demogorgon if he tried. 

Steve takes a moment to wonder why they got all serious after that. The atmosphere's intense, and it throws things off its axis, like they're privy to something he's not aware of. 

He _could_ guess, but really Steve doesn't mind he's more curious than anything, so he chooses to let it go.

"Not to mention how uh," Nancy clears her throat to overthrow the silent stupor she created.

"Fitting it is, _considering."_

_That's_ got Steve interested. "Considering, what?"

And, to both their shock, she clams up. "Oh it's, stupid."

"No, no way! Couldn't be. It's probably just something you'll have to explain, Nance."

Nancy weights out her options, wonders if she wants to go down this road. Measures out the pros and cons in her head, and figures it was only fair that she be a bit truthful after everything Steve's said.

"Well, they're the only cats that live in groups. Together."

For whatever reason they all fall silent.

But it's Steve that breaks it. "Huh, really?"

She nods, "Must be that 'strength in numbers' shit. Figured that was right up our alley."

Jonathan hums, considerate, "Makes sense." 

"Yeah, sure doesn't hurt," Steve mumbles. 

Nancy takes their answers as a moment to breathe, so it can all sink in. Thinks about those stupid pros and cons of hers and and lets her mind run. Considers the possible outcomes of spilling her heart out on the table right here. Spill what she really thinks even if she fears what they'll say. Or even _worse,_ if they claim this is all out of nowhere.

Tell her this is crazy and leave it at that. But you know, maybe she was onto something.

Reminds her vaguely of the time her aunt Cindy made a _killing_ at being a psychic. Had tarot cards, vague omens, _everything._ Said uncle Tony would lose the keys to his car and go bald into the coming year, right on the top of his head and well... 

Several gray hairs and a bottle of Rogaine later and he's starting to see the light.

Nancy would give _anything_ right now to have a shred of that sort of confidence about her own future.

But she'll take a leap of faith, because she _refuses_ to retreat again.

Not now, not ever. For whatever comes first the hell or the high water. 

"Then... what would you guys think, if I made a proposal."

That sobers them both, sure, but they're still _very_ confused, and it shows in their faces.

"Proposal tooo," Jonathan hesitates, "What exactly?"

Nancy breathes, gathers herself, readies herself for the rejection.

"Us being a pride."

-

Both Steve and Jonathan look stumped, searching eachothers faces for the answers, and when they come up blank, Steve braves a turn back to Nancy.

"You mean like, we go hunting again?" Steve looks down, assesses his injuries, "Figured we already did all that. I don't know about you two but I think I've had my fill for tonight."

"Yeah Nancy I don't know," Jonathan treads carefully, adjusting his blankets, "I think I'm gonna have to take a raincheck on that. Just until, you know, my leg doesn't look like something out of Texas Chainsaw."

She groans, "No, no I mean like, us sticking together. You know, havin' eachother's backs, sharin' a meal--"

"Isn't that what we already do?" Steve says.

"I mean... something more."

"More? Nancy," Steve says, strains, "You're not making any sense--" 

"Oh? And flesh-eating demondogs make sense? Come on you guys," she sighs, presses on,

"M'just saying. Maybe there's something here that's not being... utilized."

Both boys feel like they're swimming out at sea, and they're just waiting on her to toss them some sort of lifesaver.

Jonathan's head spins sure, but his eyes eventually shine after a moment. Like he's just that split second away from maybe getting somewhere with her line of thought. But he's still lost, so he fishes for more clues, "Nancy, why--why now."

"I don't know, just," she clings to anything, any set of words that will make this more crystal clear, "It feels like wasted potential."

"Wasted potential?" Steve shrugs, "Alright. I'll bite. Like?"

"Like," she clears her throat, voice going all soft, caught on the emotions she's let stew in her chest for longer than she'd like to admit, turning towards Jonathan,

"Like the way Jonathan reminds you to eat lunch when we're busy during the day." then she turns to Steve, "Or when you're too caught up in babysitting duty and forget to take a break. And not just the 'I'll take a five' kind. No human alive's prepared enough for _them,"_ she teases, the look in her eyes far too affectionate for it to have any real bite. She loves all those kids, truly. They can just be... something else, sometimes. "Even if it's a handful of Goldfish for lunch, Jonathan's prepared, always."

Steve can't seem to dispute any of that, so he just rubs his shoulder.

Then she turns back towards Jonathan, "Or that time a couple weeks back, when we were walking down Cherry Street. Remember that?"

Jonathan smiles, "I remember."

She smiles back, thinking she might be on the right track finally, "Me and Steve wanted a slushie from 7/11, some new watermelon flavor he just couldn't live without. And I remember we begged and begged and **_begged_ **until you joined us." It warmed her from the inside out just _reliving_ the story and spilling this memory.

"Jonathan I remember you," she laughs, in near disbelief, "You said you couldn't say no to us even if you wanted to."

"So we walked, didn't take your car since you had a flat but it didn't _matter." the memory floats up clearer, right from the deep recesses of her mind._ "We were all walking side by side, with Steve right in the middle. And Steve swore up and down that the cloud above us looked _exactly_ like the Michelin man," she laughs.

"And then," she braces herself for the next bit, because no amount of time makes this part any easier to talk about,

"Then Steve, _eagle-eyed Steve,"_ she laughs, and Nancy hopes she's able to keep the choke out of her voice. "Saw the light hitting your hair. Heard an engine revving, put two and two together. And before I could even _shout,_ he went and pulled you by the collar while that asshole in the yellow Pontiac almost ran you over."

Jonathan nods, finding less luck keeping the cracks out of his own voice, "I remember." 

(And he does, because how does one forget the hell and fury of a Nancy scorned. Yelling down the street and hearing "That **asshole!"** ringing through his ears.)

It's starting to feel like Jonathan's mantra now, remembering. Something he thinks that if he says enough times it might distract him from the haze Nancy has built up in his brain. Hopes the cells can line up just right and he can feel them churning along, as he rubs the back of his neck and feels goosebumps rise up. Remembers how scorching hot Steve's hand felt at the base of his neck, even when it was brief. 

"I should've realized sooner, m'sorry." She's not sure if she just means the accident, or _them._

Either way Jonathan reaches towards her and takes up her hand, kisses her knuckles and murmurs, "It's _okay,_ Nancy."

Whatever ails her for that minute fades, and she's swiftly reminded just how fortunate she is to have Jonathan in her life. 

"God" her voice goes even softer, "Remember that time I needed extra hands to make those brownies for my class? You know, the ones with walnuts and shit." she huffs, "I couldn't get the consistency right. They always ended up too undercooked. And my mom was out of town for a couple days, so," she feels like she's rambled for a bit, but when she checks in they're both still tuned in, so Nancy keeps going.

"So I called you guys, and we, we," even just mentioning that night still throws her for a loop.

But, on the total opposite end of the spectrum Steve just can't help but take the bait when he gets this look in his eyes, and teases her about it like it's way more than it is. "We _what,_ Nance?"

Her face goes up in flames, but she won't let him keep the upper hand, "You know _exactly_ what, not like it's some secret. You guys turned up, saved the day, made it _work."_

Nancy remembers blurred moments; stained oven mitts and a glossy countertop, and the way that they just didn't _care._ Like they were all kids again and she let's the memory of it skate and flow across her ribs.

She sighs, sudden and solemn, _"We_ made it work. Made sure I didn't give a bunch of 7th graders food poisoning. Made sure I had enough flour, made sure I used the right amount of vanilla, made sure the consistency was right." she honestly felt like her head would have popped right off if it wasn't for their welcome company that night. 

"Eh, you would have made do without us," Steve supplies.

"Sure, but maybe i didn't _want_ to," she's got the words, right on the tip of her tongue, 

"It's easier with you guys." she admits, "Everything is. Baking, monster hunting, making sure the 'shitheads' go to bed at a reasonable time on game night." 

Steve bites his lip to keep from laughing, "Usually have to pray for a miracle on that last one, Nance--"

"Oh, whatever. Point is, I wouldn't want to deal with the mess alone, not without either of you."

The air's heavy, and the three of them get this feeling that things _are_ more heavy now.

"Welllll," Jonathan drags, "Last I checked, with how messy we were? Only half the ingredients made it into the bowl."

"Yeah," Steve snorts, "Surprised Mrs. Wheeler didn't murder us. When I meant walking on eggshells around her," he chuckles, full and light, lighter than it's really been all night, "That wasn't really what I meant, Nance."

"Yeah, well! It took ages to get the fudge out of my blouse, so you're both lucky ** _I_** didn't kill you."

"It's not too late, Nance," Steve rolls his shoulders and crosses his arms to loop them around the back of his neck, but the look on his face says that he'll bare the brunt. Dares her to bring it, "I'm sure you've got your plan of attack, your _schematics--"_

She licks the edge of her teeth, playful, matching Steve's calm demeanor, "Sure do."

Jonathan snorts at that, stands up straighter.

"Nah, you love us too much for tha--" and he stops, puts the brakes on whatever else was about to come out of his mouth and instead of the loud screech that usually results before a car crash, it's the deafening silence of it all that's the REAL killer.

"N-Nancy, I'm, I'm sorry I didn't mean to--"

"No, no you're right," Nancy admits, voice hoarse, 

"I do," her chest heaves, "Love you both, a **_lot."_**

The shock's fresh on Steve's face. He wants to brave a look back at Jonathan, check if he's okay, but he's just so _lost._ "Nancy, there's no way you--"

She nods, face all flushed, but still stubborn and full of conviction.

_"Still?_ After all this? I thought I was, you know--"

She's disgusted by herself, knowing how that sentence ends.

"You're not. You're not _**bullshit,** _Steve. I don't know what I was thinking that night. I," she clears her throat and fusses with the fray of her shirt, eyes misty, "Both of you need to hear me out, okay?"

Steve and Jonathan both turn their bodies in her direction and they give her their full attention.

"I don't think I would have done," the breath she lets out is heavy, ragged, "What I did back there tonight for just anyone. Wouldn't normally _touch_ a demogorgon with a ten foot pole but you guys, you're too important. **_Too fucking important."_**

"Seeing you both get mauled set something off in me, something," she can't finish it.

"It's alright Nance," Steve says. "We're here." 

"Yeah, we're right here," and wordlessly they take her hands, acting as anchors.

It comforts her, thoroughly, but she still feels defeated.

"I couldn't help myself." she scrambles to explain it, and she has to practically tear it out of her own throat in the end, "I, I feel like I let the beast _win. I_ let the rage take over. _I_ let it make me ruthless." 

"Even now it makes me _sick,_ and I feel like I can't shake it off," she clutches the sleeve of her sweater, bites her lip, "I felt _raw. **Exposed.**_ Like I was outside of my own skin." she breaks down now, shaking a bit while she holds back tears, "Honestly? I wouldn't blame either of you if you wanted to leave while you still cou-"

_**"No,"**_ they both claim, in equal ferocity, and her eyes widen at the intensity.

_"Never,"_ Steve solidifies, "Nancy, we wouldn't."

"You're like," Steve thinks, "You're our glue, Nance," but Steve doesn't think that that contains the magnitude of how he feels, and now _he's_ feeling overexposed, so he turns to Jonathan, "Help me out here man."

"Nancy, you're," Jonathan lets it stew, testing the words before they exit his mouth, "You're the lioness, of _course_ you've got fire. That's exactly what we _like_ about you. That you can take down something twice your size and come out on top. So no, no way. You're stuck with us Nancy." he finishes, and even when he still feels slightly sluggish from the lingering drugs, his lips still curve up, meaning every word. 

She didn't think the tears would come down like waterfalls but here she was, proving the impossible possible, as she lifts Jonathan's arm and gives a teary, wet kiss to the inside of his wrist. 

"Exactly, Nance. We'd be dead meat without you," Steve gets up out of his chair and makes it halfway before Nancy slams into him and hugs him for all he's got, soaking tears through his shirt.

"That's it Nance," he pats her hair, tangles his fingers and holds her tight, mindful of his hand, "You don't have to be strong right now. Just, let it all out."

Jonathan watches on, feeling his heart tear in two from the little hiccups Nancy burrows into Steve's chest, but it's not by much. He's _glad_ that Steve's here, more than glad. If he was in better shape he'd hug them both, but he's fully content in letting the moment play out.

"Nance, that," Steve sighs and continues to rub her back in firm circles, "Look. You ever wonder _why_ I went back that night? When you and Jonathan had those bear traps set up? It wasn't because I wanted to get some practice in with my swing."

They both look at him, and _that's_ got him emotional. Ignites something sort of primal in his eyes, "It's because I couldn't take the idea of either of you getting _hurt."_

"Wasn't a fan when I saw Tommy and Carol hover over you guys like vultures in the halls. Wasn't a fan when that demogorgon jumped Jonathan. Wasn't a fan when," Steve sighs, 

"When I saw you guys almost get nailed to the side of Nancy's car." _he didn't miss his crunched up car anyway._

Jonathan grips his arm, "I don't think anyone wants that on their conscience, Steve."

Nancy piggybacks off that, "Neither of us would have blamed you for bolting, either time."

"Yeah, well," Steve starts, "After waking up in a cold sweat three days in a row, on a regular? You start to get some perspective."

"And, well, maybe I _wanted_ to play hero for you guys," Steve offers, and neither of them have anything to say to that. 

He turns to Nancy, "And sure yeah, I got cocky, but you me and Jonathan are always ready for it. Fact if I still had my lighter and match ready, shit, we'd be golden." he laughs, but then for whatever reason that collection of words has Steve feeling slightly remorseful, looking towards Jonathan.

"Reminds me, sorry for losing your lighter back in the tunnel, man."

"No harm," Jonathan says, quiet.

Steve seems very grateful, but he continues on, "But, yeah. I don't know I, I wouldn't go back on that. Even if I could."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. We've got history," Jonathan adds, "Can't undo that." 

"No, no you can't," Nancy says with her voice all choked up, and with a look, her and Steve both decide to take back their seats on either side of Jonathan.

And, sat in the tightest circle-- well, triangle-- they can manage, the three of them take in their atmosphere, look around at the small bouquet of balloons that accumulated in the corner so they can figure out where to go from here. It's all out in the open, sure, but that next step seems so steep, and it almost starts to seem like they might wait eachother out, see who figures out the answers first. But Jonathan's too quick, and he decides to relieve the tension from their grip. 

"Ya know," and both Steve and Nancy look up to meet Jonathan's eyes, takes in the dark bags underneath.

"I had a nightmare, maybe a few months ago, I don't know. But it started off so," his face goes hard, the lines and shadows prompting Nancy to reach a hand, and Steve takes the same initiative, palm open for Jonathan to take if he needs it, and he takes the invitation. Breathes in and out, and shakes, ever so slightly on a waver, "Real, and weird, and _heavy._ I don't know if heavy's the right term, but it felt like, like,"

"Like an elephant sitting on your chest," Steve says, which has Nancy squinting over at him. 

"An elephant?" 

"Yeah," Jonathan says, "Exactly! Made me feel like I had a faulty lifesaver and I just barely bobbed above water. I was sitting at the dinner table, with mom, and I saw Will, just sitting there across from me. And then he started choking. I went to go give him the heimlich, but whenever I went over to grab him, he disappeared, like smoke."

"Oh, shit, Jonathan," Nancy says, rubs her thumb against his as she attempts to keep it together.

"Jesus, I, wow," Steve says, equally sympathetic while his voice cracks.

"Wasn't the last time either," Jonathan admits. "It was different people, sometimes. My mom, El, fuck even my aunt Julie, but it all ended in the same shit; smoke. By that point I was so fucking tired of my dreams _screwing_ with me. Already got no sleep as it was," Jonathan sighs, his hands tightening on theirs, strays from his thoughts and revels in the differences he finds in their hands, the little moles and freckles he rarely lets himself linger on in Steve's. Nancy had them too, but you had to look really hard between the curve of her fingers to find them.

"One night though-- I think someone out there wanted to throw me a curveball and see how I'd handle it-- it was me, on the other side. Choking. I realized that whatever it was that Will coughed up a lung for must have been the smoke, 'cause that's what it felt like. Like when you let a campfire burn out, but the smell still lingers. Felt like every breath I took was toxic, honestly thought I'd pass out."

"Then I saw you guys," both hands freeze around his, but he retains the hold. 

"Well, like you guys but more translucent. And I remember sitting there, waiting to see if the dream would twist the ending. Make sure that you guys landed the final blow. But no, no you both punched some, spectral fucking hand through my chest and yanked whatever it was out so I could _breathe,"_ he laughs, with a tinge of awe. "It was somethin' else." 

"Huh," Steve opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again, "...And you're sure that was us?" 

Nancy thinks about rolling her eyes, going over to nudge him but really she's just as amazed. "Huh. Sounds like some dream."

"Yeah," Jonathan says, cheeks turning ruby, "Some dream."

"And uh, that dream," Steve speaks up. "Did it come back, or--"

"Not after that night, no. Still had weird dreams, but nothin' worth uh, sharing."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Think the sandman got bored, so," Jonathan deadpans, but there's a smile. It's small, but it's there. "Oh, shit, I didn't even get to tell you about the crows--"

"Oh, we got Upside Down _crows_ now? God what else," Steve groans, but Nancy laughs, full and from her belly along with Jonathan, and as painful as it is he doesn't stop. Well, maybe once to make sure he didn't make his bandages come loose. 

Once he deems them intact he looks up, and well, that's got them all laughing now. 

"Shit guys," Jonathan wipes a tear, "We gotta keep it down. We're gonna wake up the neighbors--"

"I love you," Steve blurts out, before he can stop it, "I love you."

And just like that it's eerie how quiet it gets, like you could drop a pin-needle in the center of the room and it would most definitely disturb or shatter the atmosphere. Like time's frozen still. 

It's electric, it's terrifying, and it makes Steve feel like a weight has been shifted off his shoulders all at once.

But it's the telling noise of Jonathan's heart monitor that makes time restart. And Steve can't look at his shoes forever, so he looks up, right into two equally shocked faces.

"Steve," Jonathan and Nancy both murmur, like they need to keep quiet or else someone will barge into the room at exactly the wrong time.

"Steve," Jonathan starts, louder now as he grips Nancy's hand, "I know we went through a lot tonight, but,"

"No man, just _listen. I mean it._ Every screwed up thing possible's been leading up to this, alright," Steve breathes, "And I'm gonna say it again," he looks earnest, up at Jonathan,

"Before the next thing almost kills us-- I love you. Honestly."

"Oh."

"Oh? Was kind of hoping for some heartfelt shit Byers, but I'll take it--"

And then all three of them never get to hear the end of that, when Jonathan leans in the extra distance and kisses him, leaving Steve to pull him further in by the neck. And yeah, It doesn't last nearly as long as either of them would have liked, but it doesn't make it any less warm, any less of an _experience._

So when they part, their hair's all tangled at the top as they settle right into eachother's spaces.

Jonathan's heart rate picks up on the monitor, but it's all background noise to both of the other parties, having to strain their ears to hear the soft, "Steve."

"Hey. Wow I, I honestly didn't think I'd get this far without being shoved off," Steve admits, but Jonathan still looks dazed.

"Jonathan?" Steve looks to Nancy, but she looks equally perplexed, so she tries to comb a hand through his hair, "You in there Byers--"

"I'm here. Just, thinkin'."

Nancy and Steve look at eachother, and he starts to see this glint in her eyes. It's bright, all encompassing, and if he wasn't ready to dive head first, it might have seemed scary at first glance. But nothing's really scary when the three of them are involved, so he turns back to Jonathan.

"About?"

"You guys, how much I love you," Jonathan says on a shrug, "Thought it was kinda obvious."

Neither of them say anything at that, just grin.

And once Nancy lets that soak into her skin, she walks around, now face to face with Steve.

"Hey, Steve?" quiet as her voice is, it's got a sudden bout of conviction, as she lifts her head and tilts it so she can meet his eyes, "Can I level with you about something?"

His heart freezes, "Uh, sure Nance. What?”

She checks beside him for the window, sees it's been drawn shut, and then checks behind her for the door and finds it predictably shut too.

"You've uh, still got a few loose branches stuck, right there," she giggles, points a nail along his hairline and gently knocks a lone piece of moss loose.

"Wait, what? No way! Come on," he pats his hair, looking way more panicked than he should just to see the looks on their faces. And they don't disappoint, with Jonathan rolling his eyes and Nancy tsking at Steve as she swats his hands out of the way.

"Just, bend down you big baby," she snorts, and Steve complies, bending his knees until she's more level with him,

"Alright, go ahead."

And once he gives her the go, she reaches out so she can comb and sift through the rest of the pieces, like she meant to. But she decides to take a sharp detour instead and tugs him down by the shoulders until her lips slot over his. And he just, melts into her. Like no time had really passed between the two of them. Just for a few moments before she pulls back, laying her forehead against his with a slight glint in her eyes,

"Think I got it."

Jonathan laughs, and Steve's left spluttering.

“What, um, what was that?”

Nancy just shrugs, eyes still bright. “Been wanting to do that for ages," lays a hand over his heart, "Figured what’s a better time than now.”

"Wait, wait," he keeps a soft grip on her shoulders and holds her at an arm's distance, thinks to himself that if he does that he can collect himself enough to figure this out. "So, you really..."

Nancy nods, and Steve almost swears he's giddy from it, feeling ten feet off the ground.

"Wait. How's all _this,"_ he gestures wildly between Nancy and Jonathan, and feels like he's about to go absolutely _insane,_ "Supposed to work?"

Personally Nancy feels like she's walking on air when she looks between them, but the heat of their stares cause her heart to pick up double time.

"You wanna know what I think?"

They're both patient, waiting until she's ready.

"Maybe it's not supposed to be that hard. Maybe it's just like, riding a bike. You know, one of those... three seated ones."

"Wait, wait," and then Steve lets go, which takes a lot more strength than he thought he was capable of from being wound up in Nancy's orbit. But he manages just fine, turning to the side to meet Jonathan halfway, and bends down. Gives Jonathan ample time to shove him off just in case the first time was a false alarm, and enough time for Steve to tell the cautious part of himself to fuck off and kisses Jonathan again. Cups his face in both hands and pours everything he's got into it. Hopes that whatever he's putting into the mix is undeniably _him_ and that it's **_enough._ **And when Steve's stomach swoops and pools warm in the same way it did with Nancy not a minute ago, he's got a good feeling about it.

It takes a good minute before either of them pull back, and even then Steve can't blame it on a lack of oxygen, but more the ache in his hand when a piece of his cloth comes loose in Jonathan's hair and sticks to it like Velcro.

"Just, um," Steve reddens, "Felt like evening the score."

"How uh," Jonathan clears his throat, "How nice of you." admittedly his flushed face isn't the only tell, as the nonchalance is ruined by the steady pickup of his pulse on the monitor.

"Oh yeah, course. Wouldn't want to leave you out," his hands still haven't moved from his face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA, im so excited to be almost done with this fic! (okay that probably sounds awful like i dont like my fic lol, which really couldnt be further from the truth???) but honestly im just! excited to finish a multi-chapter fic it's honestly been ages for me c:
> 
> weirdly enough this fic was supposed to just be that first chapter? and then once i attached myself to this whole 'necklace concept' it just wouldn't leave my head?? and then i did some research on different animals for another project entirely, and learned that fun little factoid about lions and i just went 'wow... i really didn't think lions were the ONLY ones that did that sort of thing, how weird!' (also i wont lie i just,,, really wanted to vaguely write nancy getting to be nerdy about her knowledge on animals and shit again like in season 1 lol) also pshhhh, whaaat, that really vague part about nancy and her boys baking and stuff together?? that totally wont be a fic thing one day pshhhh! (honestly i'd love to make it a separate thing if the inspiration strikes me lol)
> 
> honestly im ngl the next chapter's probably just going to be mostly floof, which im V excited for, after all these three have been through physically and emotionally <3
> 
> also wow i REALLY googled some random stuff for this fic. when was rogaine invented, various slang/word uses etc etc


	4. and now i've really got a hold on you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow @ myself: an update that's under 2k for this fic? i know it's weird to me to lol
> 
> no but here we are! at the end, so i can finally let them all rest so to say~ take this chapter as like, the epilogue that's one or two hours after the events of the last chapter. c:

It's calm. It's finally, blissfully calm, despite the last 24 hours making it seem otherwise.

Dust has started to settle, stuff has been resolved, and things can go back to their regular old pandemonium-- just with a twist.

"Wha--What the--"

Like how in the short time that Nancy had left to go towards the vending machine-- in a search for something even remotely food-like for the three of them-- the guys had managed to not only mess up the bedsheets, but a bag of Lays as well, leaving Steve stuck mid-opening the bag while it looks like all the chips had shot out in different directions. Some landed by the balloons, some by the 'Get Well Soon' cards. 

One even managed to sneak itself all the way on top of the VHS player but that's neither here nor there.

"Okay," Nancy sighs, closing the door behind her and unloading her loot onto the nightstand while trying to be diplomatic, "And whose idea was this?"

Jonathan immediately rats Steve out by jabbing a thumb in his direction while also grabbing a chip off his shoulder.

"Hey! I just figured I'd get us a head start." Steve plucks a lone piece from Nancy's pillow and pops it in his mouth, "'Cause last I checked, all we got to eat before we left was a box of stale protein bars. So excuse me for trying to treat you guys _right--"_

"Uh huh," she grins, just slightly. "Come on you guys I leave for _five minutes._ Five. Minutes, to get snacks for you, and this is how I'm greeted?" She's totally kidding... mostly. "Now my side's all covered in salt and grease!"

She makes a compelling case, if they're both honest.

"It could've been worse!" Steve says, "Thought about making you some tea to. You know, to sweeten the deal, but then the pot wouldn't heat up, and,"

Jonathan finally helps fish him out, "And we ended up going down the hall to put the water in the microwave."

"--I was _going_ to say we warmed it with our burning love for you Nance, but alright--"

She scoffs, affectionately, "Charmers." and then throws Steve a wry grin before smacking a kiss to his cheek, then walking over to Jonathan's side to do the same. "Alright, scooch over then," brushes the majority of the chips off the mattress, "Let's enjoy our banquet in peace."

Jonathan does just that and she settles into the empty space to his right and burrows herself.

"Mmm, cozy."

"Nancy," he protests, but he doesn't make a move to shove her away. 

"That can't be comfortable." and even as he chastises her he loops an arm around her waist, the other still loosely wrapped around Steve's. "Come on you know the doctors will be back anyti--"

"Screw _them._ If they have an issue with me getting comfortable with my boyfriends, then they got another thing coming." it's in that same old no nonsense, not God fearing way that she usually inflects on things that are important, and it always _blindsides_ Jonathan. Not really because of the weight of her wrath, but more in the way that her words always pool like lava into his stomach and shoots into his heart in equal tandem. Mixes in such a way that he falls in love again, every single time.

And now that the three of them are all here, just like this? It just keeps taking his breath away, every time he thinks about it. 

"Hmmm, wonder if there's a setting just for this," he snorts, lifting up the remote. 

"What, a trap for intruders?" she jokes, "Definitely. Fact it's right here," she settles her head into the crook of his neck and plucks up the remote, points at a button at random,

"This one releases the arrows."

Steve mock gasps, from their right side, "Does your plan include a safety net for me? 'Cause _I'm_ not hearin' it."

Nancy giggles, "Don't worry Harrington. This button," she points to a purple one, "Will make sure to release a bulletproof escape pod, just for you."

" _That's_ what I like to hear!" Steve praises, "Much better."

She rolls her eyes, "Like we'd forget about you, Steve," and, really Nancy meant for it to be more teasing than tender, but it feels like the right thing to say if it makes Steve Harrington at a loss for words.

Least that's what it looks like, when whatever he was about to say gets lost in the ether.

"Earth to Steve? Helloooo," Jonathan drawls, a giggling Nancy at his side, "You alright? Paging our Boyfriend? Anytime would be nice--"

"Oh whatever Byers, just needed a second to reboot, that's all," Steve defends, arms crossed, "Why I love you guys I'll never know."

"An astute question, Mr. Harrington," Nancy says, her voice slipping down a couple octaves, "Thank you for sharing it with the class--"

"Whatever," he grins, reaching a hand out to fix Nancy's flyaway hair, only to mess it up again with a quick shake.

"Asshole!" Nancy shrieks, laughing as she holds a hand out to block his advances, while Jonathan's quick to reply, "We'll have to mark you down for that."

And Steve's quick to challenge. "Is that a threat?"

But Nancy's there to back Jonathan up and balance it out. "Oh, It's a promise alright."

And alright, Steve knows that Nancy probably didn't _mean_ it that way. He knows that in the back of his mind, but if Jonathan's as stunned as he feels...

"Well, then, good." 

And with that somehow settled in their minds they all cuddle back in. Well, Steve _tries_ to, but his hand and Jonathan's leg create problems in that department, so they settle for as close as they can manage. Surprisingly they drift off to sleep like that, uncomfortable positions aside, with their day winding down even if it's probably two in the morning, but they don't care. 

Nancy seems to have more to say though, so later in the middle of the night her head pops up from the crook of Jonathan's neck.

"Hey," and her voice comes across quiet, so they both have to strain to hear her.

"So, what did you guys think..."

She knows that even mentioning this right now is probably stupid, and it's super late, and they all decided they would discuss this more in detail in the morning, when their brains were in working order.

But her mind won't let her rest until she asks, "Of my proposal."

Jonathan and Steve stir, both hazy and barely awake, but the question jolts into their bloodstream and makes them think, looking at eachother in the low light.

Steve pretends to really think about it, even when he's got his mind made up and looks to Jonathan who looks about as blissed out as he feels, and before Nancy can try to backtrack, both guys smile and reach the same conclusion.

"Well,"

"We _do_ know a guy that specializes in rings."

"Oh yeah?" (She knows they're kidding, they have to be. But it does absolutely nothing to hold back that thrumming hope in her chest that they're serious.) 

One more leap wouldn't hurt right? 

"I'm game."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's pretty much it! honestly i say that, but i really want to eventually come back to this story soon and add like, the aftermath? like. im still so sad i didnt have robin in this? but i just didnt wanna make the idea even more cluttered than it already was??? but no i DEFINITELY wanna write her reaction when steve tells her or somethin~ (it'll prob be a separate fic of it's own but i might change my mind knowing me lol)
> 
> thank you to whoever out there's kept up to date with this fic and read it honestly! 💕 even despite how frustrated I got at times editing it, I'm pretty happy with the end result! (not to mention I'm still surprised at myself for making it way beyond the oneshot I was trying to write at first lol!)
> 
> BUT ANYWAY thank you again <333

**Author's Note:**

> yeah ya know i!!! don't know what came over me writing this? inspirations are so weird and sporadic i swear, but, i will say it's been super fun writing this. and trying to get across this, morbid moment where nancy understandably s n a p s when she sees the demogorgon threaten to take someone else from her?? idk yo idk lol (not to mention that music always seems to be a huge motivator for me to write sometimes, so i HAD to nerd out once one of my mutuals mentioned the song 'hot knife' by fiona apple for one of their ships, so from there it was all over for me and well, here i am lol~) 
> 
> thankfully i should hopefully have the second part of this up sooner rather than later? since im pretty much done, i just gotta triple check and edit shit lol


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